


without a key

by firstaudrina



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: Alternate Season 1, Alternate Universe, M/M, Nate leaves town instead of Serena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-13 17:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstaudrina/pseuds/firstaudrina
Summary: Nate doesn't want to come home but he doesn't have much of a choice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> S1 AU in which Nate is basically Serena.

Nate doesn't want to come home but he doesn't have much of a choice.

He gets off the train at Grand Central alone, with no one there to meet him. His mother is at Blair's now, at a party; he wouldn't be surprised if she'd planned it that way just to fuck with him. No, look out for him – that's what his mom calls it.

He shouldn't think like that. His mom needs him. That's why he came back.

It's with a deep breath to steel himself that Nate crosses onto the platform, into the station. It feels like so many people are watching, recognizing him – _Howard Archibald's kid, isn't it? The one that ran away?_ – and he locks eyes with one boy in particular, a boy his age with close-cropped hair who seems to recognize Nate instantly. Before he can be placed, the boy drops his gaze; a man who must be his father swings his arm around the boy. Nate feels vague, unspecific jealousy.

Maybe he can just go home and ignore the party altogether. Or, better yet, find another train back to Connecticut.

But no – Nate is a dutiful son and his mother said to meet her at the Waldorfs', so that's what he's doing.

The cab ride there is nowhere near long enough.

Mrs. Waldorf notices him first, keen-eyed as ever. She raises one eyebrow in a way that reminds Nate painfully of Blair and says, "Nate Archibald, is that you?"

"Um…" Nate is not dressed for a party, clearly, in his jeans and sweater; his duffel bag is slung over his shoulder. "Hello."

"Blair didn't tell me we were expecting you."

Nate doesn't particularly want to respond to that, so he says, "Have you seen my mother? She said she would be here tonight."

"Yes," Mrs. Waldorf says, still eyeing him. "I believe she's in the next room. And last I saw," she pauses, pointedly, "the girls were by the kitchen."

Nate ducks his head, already moving past her. "Thank you."

He finds his mother easily. She stands straight-backed, hair swept up, party smile on. She's chatting to someone, but sees Nate immediately; still, she pretends not to realize he's there until he calls her several times.

"Nate," Anne says warmly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. It's only in public that she uses that tone; she'd never sound half that fond if no one was listening. She leaves a hand on his upper arm, not to be affectionate but to hold him in place.

The words rush out before he can help himself: "Is Dad here?"

She's still smiling but her eyes go icy. "Let's save that for later, hmm? Have you said hello to Blair yet?"

"No," he says, a touch impatiently. "Mom, can't you –"

"Nate," she says, in a voice that allows for no refusal, "I thought you might want to see your friends. After all, you've been gone so long."

Guilt, then. One of her usual tricks.

"Okay," Nate sighs. "Okay."

The girls are by the kitchen, like Mrs. Waldorf said, giggling together like he never left; when they see him, both of their faces change entirely. Serena is suddenly panicked, though it only registers in her eyes, quickly glancing at him and then away. Blair's expression smoothes over into polite excitement; she betrays nothing.

"Nate!" Blair exclaims. "I didn't expect you so soon!"

Or at all, he thinks. "Hey."

"Are you staying for dinner?" Her smile is fixed; he could be a stranger to her right now, that's the kind of look it is. "We can set a place for you –"

"No." Nate looks past her at Serena, which is a mistake. Serena is focused elsewhere, in cheerful conversation with Kati. "I just came by to say hi. I'm leaving…gotta unpack, you know…"

"Right." Blair seems thankful, if anything. "See you at school then."

Nate clears his throat, doesn't know what else to say. "See you at school."

 

 

 

 

 

"You could have stayed longer than ninety seconds, Nate."

Nate fidgets under his mother's direct look. "I was tired."

"The Waldorfs were bothered by it, I could tell." His mother's breakfast consists of toast and tea, one slice of melon. _It's that kind of day_ , he thinks. "It was rude. I thought you knew better than that."

"I was _tired_ ," he says again. "I wasn't ready to see everyone yet." Nate lowers his voice, though it's not like anyone is around to overhear. "You didn't even tell me he was going to rehab."

"You weren't here," Anne counters. "How could I have told you?"

"I don't know, a phone?"

Her eyes narrow. "Funny, I wasn't aware you were familiar with those. You certainly didn't see fit to call before running off to your grandparents' eight months ago." Then, carefully, "You didn't inform your friends either, it seems. After you left, Louisa told me Blair called every day for two weeks."

"I don't want to talk about Blair," Nate says tightly.

"You're going to need all the support you can get when the news about your father comes out."

The way she says it sounds almost like a threat.

Unable to stand his silent, tense house a moment longer, Nate leaves an hour earlier than he needs to for school. Maybe he could catch Chuck, smoke a little before class – it's not like Chuck cares enough to ask any questions, and Nate could certainly use the break from them.

He doesn't expect to find Serena outside his door.

"Hi," she says nervously. Serena's never been nervous around him before and he hates it, suddenly and completely, because it's just another sign that everything's changed.

"Hi," he says.

There's an awkward little pause and then they both laugh, almost normal.

"So…" Serena shrugs, smiles. "I just wanted to see how you were? You seemed kind of upset, yesterday, and I figured Blair was probably still too sore over the breakup to ask herself –"

"Actually, I have to get going," he says. Suddenly he doesn't feel much like talking, not if she's going to be so unlike herself, so reserved; not if everyone is going to bring up Blair and the breakup-that-wasn't. "I'm going to be late, I have to – I said I'd meet Chuck."

She takes a half-step forward. "Nate –"

"I don't want to talk, okay?" Everyone needs to stop trying to make him.

Serena is undeterred. "Nate, you just – you can't tell Blair, okay? She and I are really good right now and we weren't for a while after you left and she's been through a lot this year –"

"I wasn't planning on telling her," he says, annoyed. "I didn't come back for you. I know it didn't mean anything."

It's true, but he's still saying it just to be mean.

He wants, hopes, wishes she'll say _of course it did_ just to prove him wrong, just to make the last eight months of misery mean _something_ , but she doesn't. If she's upset than her relief overwhelms it. "Okay. Thank you."

Nate tries to control the expression on his face, upset and frustrated, as he turns to leave. Honestly, what else did he think she was going to say?

Chuck is a suitable distraction, at first.

"Blair looked effing hot last night."

Nate wonders if he can go twenty minutes without hearing her name.

"There's something wrong with that level of perfection," Chuck continues, taking a thoughtful drag. "It needs to be violated." Nate rolls his eyes and Chuck laughs, unbothered. "Bet you're kicking yourself now that you missed your chance. You know she's fucking Cameron Donaghue, don't you? Last two months."

"Cameron?" Nate repeats. Cameron was on the lacrosse team with him. They were friends. "No. Man, they've never even said two words to each other."

" _Harder_ and _yes_ are probably all they need," Chuck says.

"Fuck you," Nate says without venom, stealing the joint. "You're full of shit."

Amused, Chuck watches him a moment. "At least you got to nail Serena, right?"

Nate stops walking, staring at Chuck. "What?"

"The Shepherd wedding," Chuck prompts. He smiles. "You think I don't know why you left town?"

It crosses Nate's mind then like it sometimes does, unwarranted: Serena in gold with the light coming in behind her, laughing with her knees digging into his sides, and then her mouth, her mouth on his, Nate's head spinning.

To hide his confusion, Nate says angrily, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I saw you," Chuck says. "At the bar. Looked fun, Archibald, I have to say. Though it didn't exactly take long, did it?"

"You were –" Nate stares, uncomprehending. "You were _watching_ us?"

"You were in public, Nathaniel," he says, almost chiding. "You should consider yourself lucky that I saw instead of Blair."

Furiously, Nate shoves him. "Fuck you," he says again, meaning it. "Fuck you, what kind of fucking friend are you?"

Chuck's unperturbed; he's laughing at Nate. "I'm just offering you congratulations."

"Well keep it to your fucking self," Nate says. He's still got a handful of Chuck's coat and he shakes him, though Nate knows he's never been particularly threatening. "And don't tell Blair."

"If I was going to tell Blair, I would have told her already." He grins. "So how was it?"

Nate shakes his head, still furious, and glares at Chuck before storming away.

 

 

 

 

 

Nate doesn't go to school.

His father's rehab is in Brooklyn so he mans up and gets on the subway; his mother was always a big fan of hired cars, and he's only been on it once or twice, never by himself. It feels surprisingly good to accomplish something on his own, however small. The trains make him nervous at first, underground and racketing, but by the time he gets off in Brooklyn he's decided he likes them.

His dad sighs when Nate turns up. "Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Nate hovers in the doorway. He doesn't like seeing his dad in this room, it looks too much like a hospital and his dad too much like a patient. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "I wanted to see you."

The Captain gestures him in tiredly, shutting off the television playing some talk show nonsense. "Since you're already here."

Nate sits gingerly in a chair. "How are you feeling?"

Candidly, his dad says, "Like shit," which makes Nate laugh, surprised, and his dad laughs too. "It's good you're back."

Nate is surprised. "Thanks, Dad."

"You want to get breakfast? Tastes like cardboard, but it's something."

"Yeah." Nate nods. "Yeah."

Things with his dad are tense, but decent, and Nate feels good by the time he leaves. He has a lot of time to kill before he has to show up at home, though, and he finds himself wandering the neighborhood. He gets coffee somewhere with outdoor seating. It's relaxing, not like home, and no one is staring at him.

Except one boy, sitting a few tables over.

It irritates Nate when people stare at him so openly, even more than the whispering. He might as well take to wearing a large cardboard sign: _Yes, I'm Nate Archibald and my father is an embezzling cokehead_. He snaps, "What are you looking at?"

Flustered, the boy looks down and that's when Nate realizes he's seen him before – they'd locked eyes for a minute at Grand Central, he was the boy with his dad.

"Do I know you?" Nate asks.

"Uh…" The boy scrambles, tucks the book he'd been reading under his arm. "We go to school together?" Off Nate's blank look, "St. Jude's?" He tugs on his tie, nervous. "Identical uniform, kind of a tip-off?"

"Oh." Nate frowns, looks more closely. "That's funny." He tilts his head. "You're skipping too?"

"Doctor's appointment." The guy holds up a crumpled prescription like Nate's a teacher or something, like Nate gives a fuck. "Didn't feel like going in late after all. The, uh, commute, you know. It's a bitch."

Nate snorts. "I'm Nate, by the way."

"I know." Embarrassed, he shakes his head and says, "I'm Dan. Humphrey. I'm Dan Humphrey."

It almost makes Nate smile. "You live around here?"

Dan nods, pointing. "Up that way." Seemingly assured by the fact that Nate is no longer snappish, he says, "I don't usually see people from school around here."

Nate looks at the tabletop; he probably shouldn't give out the details of his dad's situation and, more than that, he doesn't want to. "Yeah, I just…had to get away. From there."

Dan nods again. "I know what you mean."

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner with his family has never been exactly fun, but now it's deathly. It's just Nate and his mother sitting at either ends of the table, eating in silence, waiting until they've eaten enough to excuse themselves and disappear into their rooms for the evening. At least at his grandparents' there had always been people around, cousins and uncles and guests, lots of distractions.

"I saw Lily van der Woodsen at the salon today," Anne says. She's cutting her chicken into miniscule bites. "She mentioned Serena and Blair were having a party tonight. You didn't tell me."

Awkwardly, Nate says, "I didn't know."

Anne meets his eyes, frowning. "Nate, you cannot keep isolating yourself."

"No one's exactly happy to see me," he says.

"That's my point. Your father is facing jail time, Nathaniel. People don't respond well to scandal like that. If we don't do everything we can to keep the friends we've got, we're going to be left with nothing."

They need to keep up appearances, that's what she means.

She's looking at him so intently. "You should go to the party, Nate. Blair will be glad to see you."

"Blair and I are broken up," he reminds her.

"Do you love her?"

"Of course," he says, agitated.

"Blair is a wonderful girl," Anne says. "From a very important family. Are you sure you want to throw all that away?"

"This is for the best," Nate insists. "We needed to take a break, okay?"

Anne sits back, folding her arms. "I just don't think this is the best time for that."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Anne says evenly, "that you should attend the party. The more you hide yourself away, the more people think you have something to hide."

 

 

 

 

 

It goes about as well as Nate thought it would.

The second he steps into the room there's a change, a slow muted wave of whispering and phones going off.

He looks for Blair without meaning to and finds her shoving her way through the crowd, making her way to him. Serena is at her heels, hand reaching out to stop her. Blair shrugs her off. Cameron's there too, Nate realizes belatedly, trailing after both girls.

Demandingly, Blair says, "What are you doing here? You weren't invited."

 _Mom made me do it_ probably wouldn't go over very well. "I wanted to, uh…see everyone. I missed you guys." At least that part's true.

Blair was always too good at seeing through his bullshit, though. That's part of why he ran, he knew if he went back into the reception all a mess Blair would know, instantly, and he couldn't do that to her.

"Well you're not welcome," she says, arms crossed. "I would like for you to leave."

Cameron slips an arm around Blair's waist. "C'mon, man. Don't make a scene."

"I'm not," Nate says, annoyed. "This isn't really your business, okay?"

"No," Blair says. "It's not _your_ business. You left, which means you gave up your place here."

Nate's not used to being on the receiving end of Blair's wrath; the worst he ever got from her was a reprimand for eating on her bed. Mostly with him she seemed happy, and she used to smile at him in private like he'd never seen her smile at other guys.

Now she's so distant he might as well still be out of state.

"Okay," he says. "Okay. I'll go, alright?"

Blair doesn't relax an iota, raising both eyebrows expectantly. "Goodbye."

Serena won't meet his eyes at all.

There's some fuss going on at the door, some guy arguing with the bouncer – Dan, Nate realizes as he gets closer. It's Dan.

"Look," Dan is saying, "my sister is in there, okay, and I need to get her –"

They'd made some more awkward small talk the day before and then separated; Nate honestly hadn't given him a second thought since then. He finds himself intervening now, though, stepping up and saying, "He's with me, okay? Let him in."

Dan shoots him a grateful look. "Thank you."

"No problem, man." Nate realizes he probably can't walk right out now, though. "You were saying something about your – um, sister?"

"Yeah." Dan is scanning the crowd now, brow creased in worry. "She texted me, something about this guy, Chuck –"

"Not exactly the guy you want around your sister," Nate agrees. "I'll help you look."

Nate has the bonus of knowing Chuck's tricks, knows he won't be somewhere in the crowd; a quick search outside proves fruitless, and when he comes back in Nate realizes there's a staircase. It goes up to the roof.

"Hey –" He grabs Dan's jacket, tugs lightly on his sleeve. "Let's try upstairs?"

Halfway up, Nate notices Chuck's scarf and quickens his step, Dan after him complaining that this is wasting time – but when they get out onto the roof there's Chuck and a blonde girl who must be Dan's sister, Chuck pinning her down.

Dan rushes past Nate before Nate can react. "Jenny!"

Chuck turns, the girl slipping out from under him and launching herself into Dan's arms. Dan glares at Chuck, spits, "What do you think you were doing?"

"It's a party," Chuck says, dismissive as ever. "Things happen."

Nate is hovering back, unsure, mainly because Dan's rage is palpable and he doesn't know Dan enough to get in the middle of it. But he finds himself reaching out to steady Jenny when Dan lets her go, when Dan rounds on Chuck and hits him solidly, turning back with a loud curse and flexing his hand right after, cradling it.

"Dan, I want to go," Jenny says. She looks briefly at Nate, shifting away from him and closer to her brother. "Please."

Dan nods, shrugging off his jacket to sling around Jenny's shoulders, tucking her under one arm. He doesn't even look back at Chuck as he leads Jenny away.

"Friend of yours?" Chuck spits, hand pressed to his nose to stem the blood.

"You're an asshole," Nate says.

"You didn't seem to mind very much before."

It's true enough; everyone knew what Chuck was like and no one ever did anything about it.

"Yeah, well." Nate turns away to follow Dan and Jenny out, feeling suddenly ashamed by his inaction. "I guess I'm different now."

They make their way through the party, past Blair, whose jaw tightens at the sight of Nate. He just ducks his head and walks faster, doesn't want to start anything again.

Outside Dan hails a cab, making sure Jenny is inside before asking, "Want to share?"

"Yeah," Nate nods, though they are in no way going in the same direction. "Okay."

Dan offers him a tiny smile and Nate smiles back, feels something like reassurance – like maybe everyone doesn't hate him.

Staring out the cab window, though, the city is as dark and imposing as ever.

 

 

 

 

 

The next day at school Nate finds himself looking for Dan, seeking him out amongst the crowds in the hall. He's kind of embarrassed when Dan is in his second period math, way at the back of the room; Dan must have been in a lot of his classes and Nate never noticed him.

He makes his way towards Dan, dropping his bag onto the next desk. "Hey, man."

Dan's got earbuds in, so he doesn't even look up; amused, and maybe too bold, Nate reaches over to pull one out. "Hey."

Dan sits up immediately, back straight. "Hey. Hi. Hello. Hey."

"Four different greetings," Nate says, sliding into his seat. "Nice."

Dan smiles sheepishly.

Nate lowers his voice just a little, remaining casual, to ask, "How's your sister?"

"Uh, better, I think. She seems…better." Dan twists the wire from his earphones around his iPod, tucking it away. "Thanks for asking."

Nate nods and, after a moment, offers, "I'm sorry that that…happened."

Dan tilts his head, studying Nate curiously. "It's not your fault."

"Still." Nate drums his fingers on the tabletop. He's not sure why he said that, except that's it's true; he is sorry, sorry that it happened, sorry that Chuck was his friend once, just sorry in general. "How's your hand?"

"Ah, the hand." Dan looks down at it, fingers spread. "Sore. But fine."

The corner of Nate's mouth curls up slightly. "That was a pretty sweet punch."

"I know," Dan says, pleased. "Badass, right?"

Nate huffs a laugh. "Yeah, man. Totally."

 

 

 

 

 

Nate lies in bed, unwilling to get up and shower, get dressed, go to school, prepare for the Ivy mixer, sit through the interview, settle in to the rest of the life he doesn't even want.

He knows just how much his mother is banking on it too, can hear her voice in his head.

_There's a plan here, Nate. Your father and I didn't work this hard so you could just make things up as you go along. Do you know how proud he'll be of you if you get into Dartmouth? And with your grades, you'll really need to charm the rep. Our family has an image to uphold, Nate, and you have to do your part._

Dartmouth. Law school. Blair. That was the plan. Nate never did have much say in it. Once he didn't mind so much, when he was younger and it seemed much farther off, when he and Blair were in love.

He dreams of California but he knows it's no real solution; he ran away once and it didn't make a damn difference, so he doubts the amount of miles away really has much of an impact. At this point he might as well just try to make his parents happy, they already have enough to deal with.

He goes through the interview by rote. It would be an honor, he says. I've grown up hearing about Dartmouth.

When the list is posted, he's not surprised to see his name there. It's expected; after all, it's part of the plan. He is surprised, however, to see Dan there too.

"Hey," Nate says easily, coming next to him. "You get the one you wanted?"

"Uh." Dan's finger trails over the list, tracing the space between _Dartmouth_ and _Nate Archibald_ with a little sigh. "No, actually. You did."

"Oh." Nate blinks at him. "You – you wanted Dartmouth?"

"Yeah. Yes." Dan shakes his head, grabbing for his bag and coat. "I mean. It makes sense that you would get it, right? Because I'm only, what, second in our class? And you're –" He seems to realize where he's going with that and chooses to finish lamely, "Not."

Nate narrows his eyes. "No hard feelings, huh?"

"Sorry," Dan says. "Sorry, I'm just. I'm frustrated." He shrugs, a jerky little motion. "Guess that's life when you're not a legacy."

"Just because you didn't get an usher position doesn't mean you won't get into an Ivy," Nate says, privately feeling like shit because he doesn't even _want_ the damn position. It's just something he has to do, and he can't explain that to Dan.

"Yeah?" Dan raises his eyebrows. "And where did your parents go?"

Nate opens his mouth and shuts it, shifting from foot to foot. "Yale," he says after a moment. "And Dartmouth."

Dan gives him a kind of pointed look. "That's all I'm saying."

Nate frowns. "Look, man, you don't know anything about my family."

Dan bothers to look slightly abashed, but it's clear from the tightness in his jaw that he's not over this. "Just – just make sure you read his book, okay? So you'll have something to talk about."

Now Nate's confused. "Whose book? What are you talking about?"

"J.L. Hall," Dan says, enunciating slowly and clearly like Nate is somehow slow. "He's the Dartmouth rep. The book's called _The Petting Zoo_ , here –" He swings his bag up, digging into it and emerging with a paperback with a graphic black and white cover. "Read it," he says again. "Okay?"

"Yeah…" Nate takes it, flipping through idly without really paying it any attention. "Thanks."

Dan nods at him and then exits.

 

 

 

 

 

Nate barricades himself in his room with the novel that afternoon, but he only gets twenty pages in before he falls asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

The mixer is about as dull as Nate feared, and it doesn't help that his mother keeps catching his eye across the courtyard and frowning like he's not doing enough. He can't help it; Nate has nothing of value to say to J.L. Hall, apparently, and whenever he tries the man looks uninterested.

Finally, in a last ditch attempt, Nate says, "I really love your book."

Hall's attention is captured. "What did you think of the epilogue? Some people really love it, but the New York Times called it a cheap cop out. Warner Brothers' is making the movie." He muses, "I think they're going to change the end."

Nate's barely listening, his eyes sliding past Hall and through the window, where Dan is ladling out punch to people. Huh. Looks like he managed to make it after all.

Hall clears his throat and Nate snaps back into reality.

"Well," Nate says, "I can see how the end might not be all that…commercial." His eyes are getting drawn to Dan again, who meets his gaze briefly before looking away. "Want something to drink?"

He almost knocks into Serena crossing the courtyard and when he offers her a quiet _hey_ , she seemingly can't bring himself to respond. She only looks over his shoulder, maybe seeking out Blair.

"You're really not going to talk to me, are you?" Nate says. He'd almost be amused, if. "Literally, you are not going to speak?"

Brow creasing, troubled, Serena looks at him. "Hey."

Nate shakes his head – he cannot believe this – and just moves around her. Dan doesn't look much happier to see him, really, as he carefully fills two glasses. "So… What's he like?"

"Like a Dartmouth English Lit professor I have nothing in common with." Nate catches Dan's eyes and gives him an unimpressed half-smile. "Guess I could tell him how everything I have I got because I'm an Archibald."

Dan ducks his head, self-conscious, and Nate's smile turns a touch more genuine.

"You should mention Dr. Seuss," Dan tells him. "Uh, Theodore Geisel is his real name. Hall said he got the idea for _The Petting Zoo_ from _The Lorax_."

Bemused, Nate says, "The what?"

Dan's looking at him like he's slightly nuts. "Um, you know what, never mind. Just mention that his prose style is influenced by early Faulkner." He hands over the glasses but Nate doesn't take them. "You'll be alright."

"Actually…" Nate tugs a little at his tie, loosening it. "I was going to get some fresh air. How about you take these over to him?"

They have a moment of bewildered glancing, Dan to Nate and Nate to Hall waiting outside then back to Dan. Nate nods a little, encouraging.

"Uh, alright. I guess I could leave my post unmanned for a minute or two." He keeps glancing at Nate like he thinks Nate is going to take this back, but Nate just smiles at him.

Once Dan is outside, greeting Hall, Nate feels like he can leave. He's sure Dan will impress him with all that Seuss and Faulkner bullshit.

Of course, his mother's sharp nails are sinking into his forearm almost immediately. "Nate, where are you going?"

Nate shrugs her off. "Home. I didn't even want to be here in the first place."

"You made a commitment," Anne says. "Now, you go out there and –"

"No," Nate says firmly, crossing his arms. "I don't want to go to Dartmouth, Mom, and I don't want to go to Yale, or Princeton, or any of these schools. Okay? I said it out loud. Now will you leave me alone?"

Anne opens her mouth to respond but just then there's the scratchy sound of feedback from outside: Blair's standing on the platform, ready to announce this year's chosen charity. There's a glint in her eye that is not at all reassuring.

Nate finds out why soon enough. She's chosen to work with the Woodhull Center – the center his father's in. Which she announces to the entirety of the mixer, staring right at Nate. Everyone else turns to look at Nate too and he – he doesn't even know how she knew, they'd been keeping that private, it was supposed to be private –

And yet a part of Nate is almost _glad_. At least with it out he doesn't have to pretend anymore, right?

He deserves the humiliation for what he did to Blair, anyway, and she doesn't even know the half of it.

Still, he can't stand the _staring_. It's unbearable, like a spotlight, and he's out of there without bothering to see if his mother's okay. He's sure her wheels are already turning, figuring out a way to fix this one too.

He wonders if she'll still think Blair's such a great girl after today.

Nate's almost at the gate when he hears footsteps, jogging to keep up with him, and then his name, called.

It's Dan.

"What?" Nate asks. "You here to give me another lecture on everything I have?"

"No, no, I – are you –" Dan makes a small exasperated sound, seemingly at himself. He tucks his hands into his pockets. "You hungry?"

Nate stares at him, then laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, I could eat."

"Good. Because I, for one, am famished. Nothing quite takes it out of you like handing indifferent rich people glasses of non-alcoholic fruit juice for an hour and a half."

They go to a diner, someplace a few blocks away Nate honestly cannot remember ever noticing. Over burgers and fries, Dan says, "Uh, I just wanted to – to, uh, say that… If you ever need anyone to talk to – or _not_ talk to – I'd be happy to do either."

Amused, Nate says, "Thanks."

"And…" Dan twirls a fry in some ketchup, watching it with complete absorption. "I know I said some things about you, and your world, and I'm sorry. I obviously don't know anything about your life."

Nate's nonplussed; he doesn't get Dan at all, the open way Dan says things, this easiness he has with confessing. "Thanks," Nate says again. Then he reaches over and steals half the fries off Dan's plate; after all, he's finished his. He grins. "I think my Archibald legacy has earned me some fries."

Dan laughs. "Could I get some on scholarship? It's what I'm used to."

"You have to write an essay," Nate says. "Something really meaningful, about your middle-class struggles."

"I am awesome at essays," Dan says. "You are asking the right man for that. There will be so much pathos in that thing you'll be giving me fries for the rest of my _life_."

Nate starts laughing again because Dan is kind of ridiculous, and flicks a fry at him. "I'll believe that when I see it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls had been like that as long as Nate had known them, opposing forces fastened together.

Nate doesn't think he'll ever get used to the Humphreys.

He's been to the loft a handful of times by now and it's always so relentlessly _pleasant_ that it kind of makes his skin itch. Dan's dad makes them toast with Nutella and asks thoughtful, polite questions that he seems to honestly enjoy the answers to. He's always nodding and _hmm_ -ing and asking how Nate feels, saying _please call me Rufus_ every time Nate forgets to drop his ingrained formalities. Dan isn't even phased by any of it, only occasionally waving his dad away when he hovers too much. Mostly Dan and his dad joke with each other, tease and mock like friends.

It's bizarre.

Nate does like Dan's sister, though he barely sees her. She's very tightlipped around him ("This is not at all like her," Dan informs him) but sometimes she relaxes and lets a one-liner or a giggle slip by. She's always "working on something" in her room; the sound of the sewing machine is constant faint background noise as he and Dan watch movies or whatever else.

Nate likes it there.

"I'm surprised we haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before now, Nate," Mr. Humphrey ( _Rufus_ , Nate internally corrects) says. He always ends his statements with the name of the person he's speaking to, a little reassuring punctuation. "Have you and Dan not had any classes together all this time?"

Jenny is breezing by for a bottle of juice, one iPod earbud in. "Nate used to be friends with all the cool kids," she says. She punches Dan on the arm. "And obviously Dan isn't one."

Nate goes ever so slightly red but Dan just pinches Jenny. "Don't be a brat."

"You mean those girls you're always talking about?" Rufus asks Jenny, sounding only vaguely interested. "Blaise, or something?"

Jenny has the grace to look abashed. " _Blair_ , Dad, jeez," she says, rolling her eyes. "And Serena." At that, she raises her eyebrows suggestively at Dan and makes a kissy face. "You remember, Dan's _girlfriend_."

Rufus laughs and Dan says something snarky, but Nate's spine has gone tense, rigid as a ruler.

Dan must notice because it only takes one glance at Nate for the good humor to fade from his face.

Later, after dinner, they're alone taking care of the dishes and Nate says, voice low, "You like Serena?"

"Uh…" Dan looks uncomfortable, moving the sponge in slow, intent circles. He glances towards Jenny's door (it's shut tight) but when he speaks it's so quiet that Nate doubts she'd be able to hear him anyway. "She's kind of a good scapegoat, you know?"

"Scapegoat?" Nate repeats slowly, puzzled. He takes the dish and dries it off, sets it in the drainer.

Dan gives Nate a look like he's weighing something in his head. Finally he says, "My family thinks that I'm in love with this blonde goddess who is completely out of my league, so they don't notice that I'm not dating." Nate is still confused until Dan drops his gaze and adds carefully, softly, "Not dating _girls_."

"Oh," Nate says. " _Oh_." His heartbeat speeds up a little. "Oh. So you're –"

"Gay," Dan supplies. His eyes narrow the tiniest bit. "That's not an issue for you, is it?"

"No, no," Nate says immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just…surprised."

Nate looks down at the plate in his hands, picks up the dishtowel to dry it. Dan doesn't _seem_ gay. Nate guesses that's a stupid thing to think, but he just never would have suspected. It wouldn't even have crossed his mind.

He supposes a lot of things escape his notice. He can add that to the list of things about himself he has to change.

When the silence lingers too long, Nate says, "No one knows?"

"Not yet," Dan says. He starts on another dish, tiny circular motions. "Well. I told my best friend – her name's Vanessa – but she moved away right after. That was about a year ago." His voice takes on that bitter joking sound Nate is beginning to recognize. "Nothing like telling someone the hugest secret of your life and having them leave the state, never to contact you again."

Nate clears his throat, searches his utterly blank mind for something to say, and can only come up with, "I'm sorry."

Dan shrugs. "Just keep it to yourself, alright?"

Nate nods. He tries to act natural. "Yeah, man. You got it."

Nate doesn't mean to be, but he's kind of distant after that. It's not that Dan being gay bothers him, of course it doesn't, but somehow it just…changes things.

The Captain probably wouldn't have guessed Dan was gay either, and he's pretty vocal about that kind of thing. Before Blair, the Captain had thought Nate was gay for a while and if it hadn't been for his mother's strong-arming Nate probably would have ended up in a boatload of therapy.

Not that he isn't headed for a shit ton of therapy anyway.

Aside from Dan, though, there aren't many people who have the time of day for Nate. No one talks to him. No one invites him anywhere. He drifts from class to class like a ghost, like he's not really there, and outside of barked orders on the soccer field no one has anything to say to him. Except Dan. Nate has already begun to rely on Dan being glad to see him.

So Nate figures he'll just have to get over the gay thing, since it's not even really a thing, and he doesn't even know why it's tripping him up so badly.

"So it turns out Jenny's going to this sleepover –" There's muffled talking on the other line and then Dan corrects, "Jenny's going to a _soiree_ this weekend and my dad's going up to Hudson to talk to my mom, so, you know, the loft is pretty much my castle for the next two days."

"That's cool," Nate offers noncommittally.

"So I thought," Dan clears his throat, "Maybe you'd want to chill? You could stay over, if you wanted…"

Nate hesitates. It would be nice to get out of his house, even for a night. "Okay," he says. "Yeah. Sounds good."

He can practically hear Dan's smile. "Good."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hanging out at the Humphreys' is different than hanging out with Nate's other friends – no drugs or booze, like with Chuck, no millions of possible missteps like with Blair, no feelings he shouldn't be feeling, like Serena. No suits, no ties, no parties, no tuxes. No crowd ever-threatening, no one waiting with phone in hand to document Nate's latest fuck-up. Just hanging out, having pizza. This is probably what's normal, Nate thinks, and it almost makes him laugh.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Nate asks. He's actually looking forward to whatever it is, even if it's just one of those movies Dan rattles on about that Nate pretends to listen to.

"I thought maybe we'd do a walking tour of New York underground," Dan says, straight-faced. "Visit my friends the mole people. They're great, except they only ever eat leftovers."

Nate isn't sure if he's supposed to laugh or not, so he just kind of makes a puzzled grimace.

"I'm sorry," Dan says. "I don't know why I said any of that." He closes his eyes and ducks his head, presses fingertips to his temple before spinning them in a little circle, like he's saying he's crazy or like he maybe can't find the word he's looking for. "I have this thing, this nervous tic, where I don't ever stop speaking. Like ever. In fact when I was a little, my mom used to say there was never a word I met that I didn't like."

Nate blinks at him. "I gotta agree with that."

Dan smiles, wide and abashed. His teeth are a little fucked up, Nate notices. There's a little gap. Nate wonders why he never got braces. "We can do whatever you want."

"Even if I want to visit the mole people?" Nate teases.

Dan's smile softens, goes all crinkly. "We can bring them what's left of the pizza."

What they end up doing is playing pool at a bar one subway stop away. It's one of the few things they have in common, pool, and they play a few rounds with another group of guys who are a little bit older. Dan hustles them out of seventy bucks, his expression one of complete naiveté, which he uses to buy them drinks while Nate fiddles with the jukebox. He's never really seen one outside of movies (and a theme party in the seventh grade) and it amuses him, flipping through songs he doesn't know until he finds one he does.

He and Dan get the table to themselves once the hipsters decide they don't want to cough up any more cash to Dan. Nate's impressed until he realizes Dan's hustling skills extend to him and he loses twice in a row.

"Game over!" Dan crows. He sips his beer tentatively, in tiny little sips. "There are not enough words to describe the kind of bad you are at this."

Nate laughs shortly, shaking his head. "Dude, you're some kind of pool savant. It's not my fault I keep losing."

Very seriously, Dan says, "I think you'll find that the only thing being lost in this game is your dignity."

Nate opens his mouth to retort when the song he chose comes on. "Hey, this is my song," he says, smiles.

Dan seems intrigued. "I didn't think you liked this kind of music."

"I think we've already established that there are plenty of things you don't know about me," Nate says. He expects Dan to duck his head or bite his lip, embarrassed again, and he's rewarded when Dan does both.

"You just struck me as a Top Forties kind of guy," he says.

"I like lots of things," Nate says.

"Like what?" Dan asks. Nate's about to answer when Dan's phone goes off for probably the tenth time that night. "Shit. Sorry, it's just Jenny. She's at that – you know, that sleepover thing at Blair Waldorf's and I'm being a lame older brother and making her keep me updated. Just in case."

Nate knows Blair's sleepovers are just girls, but after Kiss On the Lips he doesn't really blame Dan. "I'm sure she's fine," he says. "Blair's sleepovers are pretty innocent. Maybe psychologically scarring in the long run, but…"

"Look who found a sense of humor," Dan says, but his eyes are on the phone's tiny screen as he texts back. "I'm a good influence on you."

"Not terrible," Nate agrees.

"I just worry." Dan sighs a little as he tucks his phone away. "That crowd can be… I don't know if that's really _her_ and I get wanting to fit in, but…I don't know."

"It's okay for her to want to be friends with the people she goes to school with," Nate says.

"Why?" There's that twist of bitterness in Dan's tone again. "I'm not."

_I'm not either_ , Nate things, _anymore_. But what he says is, "If you made half the effort she did, we probably would have met a long time ago."

That gets him half a smile. "Fair enough," Dan says.

"They're just going to do girl stuff," Nate tells him. "Manicures. Dresses. Probably a few martinis and maybe some making out with random guys at a bar –"

" _Making out_?" Dan repeats, sounding appalled. " _With random guys at a bar_?"

"It's totally normal," Nate insists. "She's gonna be fine, let her have her fun." He offers, "It's nice that you worry about her. It's good."

They end the night back in Brooklyn on Dan's fire escape, Dan watching uneasily as Nate lights a joint. Nate kind of enjoys playing the corruptor for once. Nate smiles, says, "Just try it. Have some fun."

The music playing is familiar in a distant kind of way, like maybe Nate heard it in a movie. It's an uneasy sound, unsettling, a man's droning talk-singing and a woman, sharp and high, out of sync with each other. Nothing about it sounds quite natural.

"What is this?" Nate asks, nodding towards Dan's room, where the music is coming from.

_As loud as hell, a ringing bell, behind my smile, it shakes my teeth._

A small smile. "I thought you knew the kind of music I liked."

"Not all of it," Nate says, rolling his eyes. Not most of it, probably. The bar was a fluke.

"Pixies," Dan says, like it's obvious. When Nate is still blank, Dan's expression becomes practically scandalized. "Consider this the beginning of your musical education, my friend."

"I like it," Nate murmurs.

"Then I guess you're not a total loss," Dan tells him. Nate punches his arm and Dan laughs.

The weed relaxes Nate, as it usually does, but if he thought Dan had a lot to say before, it's only because he hadn't known what Dan could accomplish high. He speaks in a steady stream that Nate only half-hears, tuning in and out of the conversation like a wonky radio station. Dan's voice is kind of soothing, the way his syllables drag, and the music is a harsh lull.

Then suddenly too-bright dark eyes focus on him and Dan says, "Can I ask you a question?"

Shrugging, Nate says easily, "Sure."

"A personal one?"

Nate looks at him, sitting up a little bit straighter. "I guess?"

Dan sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, hesitating. "Last year," he says. "Why'd you leave?" When Nate stills completely, Dan hurries on, "I'm sorry, I just – I was just curious and we're – we're kind of friends, right? So I thought I would ask but you don't have to – you don't have to –"

"We're friends," Nate says. It seems like an important point to make. "Not 'kind of.'"

Dan nods, says, "Cool," but seems pleased despite his nonchalance.

Nate considers it for a half a second: confessing. Telling _someone_ , just so he's not the only one with it racketing around in his head. Dan would be a good person to tell because Dan wouldn't judge him – Nate thinks, anyway. So far Dan's been pretty cool.

_I cheated on Blair_ , Nate thinks, taking a slow drag to kill time. He hands the joint off to Dan. _I slept with her best friend_.

"It was my family." Everyone knows about that now anyway: his father's downward spiral, the ruined finances, the ruined name. It's at least partly true, too. If home hadn't been so unbearable maybe he wouldn't have gotten so stoned and drunk at the wedding; if he had something to stay for maybe he wouldn't have left. Too many _if_ s. "I couldn't take it anymore. I just needed to get away."

_Hey!_ the music exclaims, _been dying to meet you_.

Dan holds out the joint and, without thinking, Nate just puts his mouth on it, lips brushing Dan's fingers. He doesn't know why he did that. He's stoned. Dan looks a little pink but Nate bulldozes over any awkwardness, says inanely, "This is a good song too."

Noncommittally, Dan nods. "What about –" He clears his throat.

"What?"

"Your…girlfriend." Dan's painful awkwardness is vaguely endearing, the way he doesn't meet Nate's eyes.

"Blair," Nate supplies, does not add the correct prefix, _ex_.

"She seems to really have it out for you."

Defensively, "She's hurt." Nate drums his fingers on the metal beneath them, feeling suddenly awkward himself. "It's my fault, I – Whatever. I deserve it."

Dan looks like he doesn't believe that but all he says is, "She seems kind of intense."

Nate smiles. "She is."

_Intense_ is a good word for Blair. Everything she does she does with everything she has to give and then some. Nate used to like being around someone who was so consumed by purpose all the time, with her causes and projects and plans. It was comforting, almost; Nate didn't know what to do with his life, but Blair had it figured out for him.

Except –

Except she was too much like his parents, laying his life out for him from his prom tux to his college course load to the house they were going to live in and the wedding they were going to have. It just became too much for Nate, became suffocating.

Serena never planned anything at all. Maybe that was better. She wasn't wound up tight like Blair, she was spiraling, drunk-bright eyes and stumbling steps. The girls had been like that as long as Nate had known them, opposing forces fastened together.

Nate looks down, blinking until his eyes clear.

The joint has burned down. Dan stubs it out and, uncertainly, says, "You said you – you said you deserved it. Because you left?"

"We're not that close, Dan," Nate snaps. It comes out much too sharply, born of his being momentarily overwhelmed. Dan is clearly chastised, which makes Nate feel guilty. He remembers that as far as he knows, Dan has one secret in the world and he shared it with Nate. And when everyone else buzzed with gossip after the Ivy mixer, Dan just came to see how he was.

More mildly, Nate says, "I just don't want to talk about Blair, okay?"

The song changes, a quirky little melody and a low wolf-whistle. "It was funny – well, not funny," Dan says, "But you left the same time Vanessa did. Around the same time, anyway. I remember because I was miserable already and then I went to school and everyone was talking about you."

Nate doesn't get the connection. And, really, he doesn't need reminding that he's everyone's favorite topic of conversation. "Yeah?" he murmurs, uninterested. "You were close?"

"My only friend," Dan says with that self-deprecating grin.

It's strange that Dan's been here this whole time but Nate never knew him.

"She was my first girlfriend, sort of," Dan continues. "We were ten. I gave her a Valentine Jenny made. It had Justin Timberlake on it. That should have been her first tip-off."

By the time he was ten, Nate was already latched onto Blair, making it official with their first kiss a year later. If you could even call it a kiss, they were just kids.

"I'm guessing it didn't end well?" Nate says, smiling a little.

"Well." Dan smiles back – smirks, really. "She started looking at other boys. And so did I."

Nate laughs but that shiver of discomfort races up his spine. He wishes he'd brought more weed with him. "You didn't always know? I've heard…that usually, people always know."

"I guess." Dan half-shrugs. "I didn't really think about it much. Until it became impossible not to think about."

Nate has a million more questions but he swallows them down. He doesn't want to be impolite.

"Vanessa was my first kiss," Dan says, and laughs, possibly at some memory Nate doesn't share. He bites his lip, self-conscious as he looks up at Nate and says, "Last, too."

The last person Nate kissed was Serena. It feels so long ago, ages ago. He can't even really remember it, it's all a blur of hair and skin and light. He always thought her mouth was fantastic for smiling but he can't remember what it was like for kissing, not at all.

Dan has a nicely shaped mouth, his lips a little pursing bow. Serena's was made for wide, toothy grins. Nate likes how Dan's mouth draws together in a pout when Dan is frowning, like he is now, and then Dan's lips part in surprise when Nate kisses him and Nate doesn't even remember deciding to lean forward.

_Fuck_ , Nate thinks. He tries not to jump back like he's been scalded but he can't disguise his flinch. "I'm sorry."

Dan's eyes are wide. "It's okay."

Nate's first instinct is to bolt (that's always his first instinct) but then there's a sound in the apartment, the door banging open and footsteps following. Dan turns towards it, calls, "Dad? Jen?"

"It's me!" Jenny pipes. She appears at Dan's doorway wearing a yellow dress and glittering black jacket, her hair loose and wavy.

"That's not what we sent you out in," Dan says disapprovingly.

She looks down at herself, smiling. "It's nice, right? I love the jacket."

Dan glances at Nate and raises an eyebrow before looking back at Jenny. "A little Aladdin Sane, but yeah. It's nice. Aren't you supposed to be straggling back tomorrow morning?"

"The night ended early," Jenny says, but she sounds satisfied by that. She declares, "It was a good night for the Humphreys. I'm going to order food, all I had at Blair's was two grapes."

Then she disappears in a toss of blonde hair.

"I knew that sleepover was trouble," Dan mutters, turning to climb back in the window. He looks back. "You coming?"

Nate swallows, nods. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

Nate stays at the Humphreys' through the weekend and it's not until Monday morning, two blocks from St. Jude's, that he works up the nerve to mention the almost-sort-of kiss.

"You know, the other night," he starts awkwardly, "on your fire escape, I was – I was high."

Dan looks at him, eyebrows raised high in amusement. "Are you referring to you kissing me?"

Nate ducks his head, looks away to the other side of the street. He doesn't get how Dan can just _say_ things. "Really high," he says. "It didn't – I wasn't trying to, uh, make a move on you or – or make fun of you, or anything like that."

Everything sardonic in Dan's expression smoothes away. "It's really okay," he says.

Nate's not convinced. "You sure?"

Dan rolls his eyes a little, in good humor. "Look, you're cute and everything," he says, looks Nate up and down in a way that makes him overly aware of his skin, "Very cute. But you're not my type."

Nate presses his lips together, not sure if he wants to smile or grimace and so does neither. "Oh?"

"Yup." Dan sighs, exaggerated and long-suffering. "That whole blue eyes, tousled hair, charming smile thing – does nothing for me."

Nate laughs. "Oh yeah? Then what does?"

They've gotten closer to the school now, similar navy jackets and ties echoed in the throng of boys around them. Dan scans the crowd and makes his choice, pointing discreetly at a tall boy with lightish curly hair. "He's alright."

"Dude," Nate says, shaking his head, "That's Evan Hale. He's a cheap date."

Dan laughs. "It's okay, I'm a cheap date too."

"Don't put yourself down," Nate jokes. "You deserve a nice guy."

Dan laughs again and Nate likes that, that he can make Dan laugh. Nate isn't funny. He never makes people laugh. Except Blair, sometimes, and then there was always the feeling that she was laughing _at_ him, just a little bit.

Absently, Nate thinks that it's nice walking to school with someone again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

To get from English to gym, Nate's last class of the day, he has to cut across one of the girls' hallways. The girls' halls have been a danger zone for as long as Nate can remember, long before he was a social pariah (that's what Dan called him, and Nate had nodded along and looked it up later on his own, so he wouldn't seem dumb). Before, when he'd been with Blair, he got all kinds of looks and giggles, girls sidling up to him asking if whatever latest story Blair was selling about their relationship was really _true_. Nate would grin and confirm everything, be rewarded with little sighs, _how romantic_.

It looks the same, now: he still receives whispers and giggles as he makes his way past the lockers, but the sound of them has changed. Now the girls narrow their eyes, the whispering is almost a hiss.

And there is always the danger of running into Blair or Serena. He doesn't know which would be worse. But today is his day to find out – there, five feet from the entrance to the gym, surrounded by brightly dressed girls, is Blair. She's in a white polo and a tight red skirt, hair pulled back. She must have gym right before he does. They're all laughing; it's nice to se Blair smile, her cheeks dimpling, her face open in a way it rarely is.

Until she spots him. Then her expression slams shut.

After the Ivy mixer, to Nate's complete lack of surprise, his mother's rhetoric had barely changed. _Blair is hurt_ , she'd said, _And I understand why. If you could just apologize, Nathaniel_ –

"Hi," he says slowly.

Tightly, Blair says, "Hello." She turns a sharp eye on the gathered girls. "You're dismissed!"

They scatter.

"That's new," he remarks. They never used to be so attentive to her.

"Lots of things changed while you were gone," Blair says.

Nate shifts awkwardly side to side. "How is your mom doing? With the divorce and everything?"

Her mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. "Great." Her tone is falsely chipper. "So my dad left her for another man. She lost fifteen pounds and got an eyelift. It's been good for her."

Nate looks at the tiled floor, at his shoes. "I'm really sorry."

"Yes," Blair says, and the falseness almost gives way to biting. "I could tell. Because you didn't call or write the _entire_ time it was happening."

"I –" he starts, falters.

But Blair is gaining speed, words spilling out. "You didn't even tell me why you left. Do you know what it was like to call your house and have your maid say, 'Oh, you didn't know? Nate moved to _Connecticut_.' You didn't even have the decency to break up with me first. Was I supposed to wait for you, Nate? Sit by the phone and pray and pray for you to come home?"

Her voice cracks a little then and he thinks maybe Blair would have done that, has done that, until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"I just –I didn't expect you to wait. I had to get away from – from everything, my dad -"

"From me?" she says, low and dangerous.

The bell rings; they both ignore it.

Nate looks at her, unsure and unwilling to answer, but he figures honesty (honesty-adjacent, at least) is the best policy. "Yes. But not for the reasons you think."

She takes a quick, deep breath and Nate knows immediately he said the wrong thing. She wanted the lie. "I'm seeing someone else," Blair says, firmly. "I've moved on." _I didn't wait for you_. There is no clearer way for her to say it.

Nate only hears his mother's voice in his head; that's all he seems to hear lately. _If we don't do everything we can to keep the friends we've got, we're going to be left with nothing_.

He knows why his mom wants him to make nice with Blair. Even with the scandal that rocked the Waldorfs, they're a good family to have on their side. They're good at rebuilding, reworking, shifting gossip so it works to their advantage. Eleanor's company would look good affiliated with his father's, might smooth the cracks in his dad's ruined career just a little, just enough that they'd have something to work with. Nate's resistant to all of this, because all of it is bullshit.

He knows why _he_ wants to make nice with Blair. He's ashamed of what he did, ashamed of how he hurt her, ashamed that everything they had was ruined by his fuckup. He wanted one thing and he got it, but the fallout left him with nothing; he thought leaving could someone preserve them, as though lives could be put on ice and picked up later. He's only made it all worse.

He wants to make up with Blair because he wants her to be happy. He wants her and Serena to be happy.

"Remember," he starts softly, "how I used to walk you to each of your classes every day? I was always late, because of that."

"Nate," Blair says warningly.

"I know I messed up by leaving," Nate says, finally meeting her eyes. "I know that. But things at home were – they were bad and I – I felt like I couldn't breathe. And I just had to go. I'm sorry. I wasn't…I wasn't thinking. I know you hate me and I deserve it, but I… I want us to just be decent to each other, at least. Because even though you hate me, you still…" He swallows. This comes easily because every word is true. "You still mean a lot to me."

Blair surveys him, utterly unreadable, and says only, "You're late for class, Nate."

He sighs. "Yeah. You too."

Blair gives him another long look and then moves past him; he thinks she might slam her shoulder into his to make a point, like he's seen her do to girls she doesn't like, but she doesn't even come close to touching him.

He goes to gym, gets scolded, feels miserable. But on his way out of the building a chipper blonde who he thinks is called Hazel accosts him, shoving an envelope into his hand with a wide grin.

"It's from Blair," she says cheerfully and then disappears.

Nate opens it warily, scanning the sparse type on the creamy white paper. It's an invitation to Blair's birthday. Nate starts to smile, feeling the most honest relief he's felt since the night on Dan's fire escape, and thinks maybe it's not all ruined after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dan calls just as Nate is falling asleep, already mid-rant by the time Nate picks up the phone. It's a steady stream of words Nate doesn't know how to interrupt – "And really," is where he begins to catch on, "who is she kidding, just _waltzing_ back into our lives? I can't believe she left in the first place, but to lie and say she was coming back when she wasn't and – and to just _swan in_ now –"

"Whoa, whoa, dude," Nate interjects as soon as Dan pauses to draw breath. "What are you talking about? Who came back?"

"Oh." Dan is silent for a second. "Uh, my mom. Sorry, I should've prefaced."

They've never talked about Dan's mom. Nate had just assumed his parents were divorced. "She was gone?"

"Yeah…" He can hear the soft sounds of Dan fidgeting, then Dan launches into the whole story – his mother going away for the summer but not coming back, the affair Dan found out about by accident, her return. "It's like she wants to pick up where we left off, but it's impossible."

"Aren't you glad she's back?"

"Yeah, but she still left. It was like –" Dan sighs. "Vanessa left, then –" He clears his throat. "And then my mom left, it was like…everyone was gone, and it sucked, and now she just wants it to be fine but I'm – I'm still angry."

The fact that Dan's list of _everyone_ amounts to two people kind of breaks Nate's heart, though he knows Dan is exaggerating. But Nate…Nate gets the leaving thing, of course he does.

"She didn't leave because she didn't care," Nate says. He doesn't know Dan's mom, but he knows Dan's family and they don't want for love. "She just…had to, I guess. I don't know why. Sometimes people need to leave. Sometimes it's better that way. Or they think it'll be better that way."

Dan's quiet, then, "People don't give you enough credit."

It's the kind of compliment that also sort of feels like an insult, but Nate knows Dan meant it well and he feels warmed by the thought that Dan thinks he deserves any credit at all for anything. "I'm going to Blair's birthday party," Nate says suddenly, "I want you to come with me."

Dan laughs softly. "You asking me on a date?"

Nate laughs too. "Yup. You and Jenny, if she wants to come."

Dan sounds slightly less amused when he says, "Blair Waldorf has no idea who I am."

"But I know who you are," Nate counters. "And you're my friend, I like you, which means that Blair should like you too. It's _math_."

"How is that math?" Dan says, laughing again.

Nate smiles, pleased once more that he's able to do that – make Dan laugh. "I like you and Blair likes me – well, actually Blair kind of hates me, but she _used_ to like me and she did invite me, so…She should like who I like. Math."

"And he wonders why he's failing algebra," Dan says, but it's good-natured. "Alright. Do I have to buy her a gift?"

"Yeah," Nate says, "But let Jenny do it."

"Jenny is going to _die_ ," Dan says. "You've made her week. Nay, her year."

"Yours too?"

"Always," Dan says. "You fill my life with light and joy, Archibald."

"Don't get all _gay_ on me," Nate teases.

"Sorry, sorry," Dan says. "I'll be straighter. You fill my life with – with, uh, beer? And football? And those backwards trucker hats?"

Nate laughs. "Dude, don't even try."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jenny is all a-twitter on the walk up to Kati's brother's place, covering up Dan and Nate's silence with chatter. Nate is all nerves – his mother had sat him down that afternoon and tried to pawn off her _engagement ring_ on him, ridiculously, and hadn't given up on the idea until Nate stormed off. He brought Blair a small, less extravagant, less impressive gift instead; a gift that makes no promises. He assumes Dan is also nervous, though he doesn't try to assume why.

"I made her a card, she's probably going to hate it," Jenny says, "I was going to buy her something, but she probably wouldn't have liked it, and then I thought I'd make her something – like, a dress, maybe – but she'd like that even _less_ and I didn't know what else to –"

"Breathe, Jen," Dan says. "Don't worry about it, Blair won't like whatever it is."

Jenny rolls her eyes, gives him a light shove. "Nice, Dan."

Kati's brother's place is done up in full Blair-sanctioned style, anime projected against the walls and neon lights overhead, sake and fresh sushi. Blair sits near her pile of presents, her black dress stark against all the whimsy. Serena is giggling by her side, already drunk.

"You made it," Blair notes wryly, reaching out for gifts before even saying a proper hello. Her gaze slides over Jenny, who is dressed to fit the theme, all bows and frills with her hair in crisp curls. "Little J, it's not a Halloween party."

Jenny's eyes stray to Kati and Iz in their matching sailor suits. "Right. I just thought…"

Dan opens his mouth to interject, that little furrow of irritation forming between his brows, and Nate knows that whatever Dan says, it won't be good. So he interrupts instead. "I think Jenny looks nice," he says brightly.

Nervously, Jenny smiles.

Blair snorts. "You would. All my training clearly had no effect." She turns, waving them along. "Come on, have something to eat."

Dan looks at him, eyes slightly narrowed. Nate shrugs and gives him a push to follow Blair.

" _Beeeeee_ ," Serena says, letting the syllable drag. She's hanging back, feet planted like a kid, and her fingers are curled around Blair's wrist. "B. B, I want to play Guitar Hero, play with me."

"Play with Nate," Blair says dismissively. "I don't even like that game."

Serena slides Nate a sidelong look and pauses noticeably before saying, "Nate's not good at it."

There's a beat of awkwardness and then Jenny pipes up, "Dan is _really_ good at Guitar Hero. And the actual guitar. He's super talented. He can play with you."

It strikes Nate as totally weird until he remembers that Dan's whole family thinks he has a crush on Serena. So of course Jenny would jump to help her brother out; they're that kind of people. Jenny means well. She's being sweet.

She means well, but she is still the next one on the receiving end of Dan's narrow-eyed glare.

Serena turns to Dan, hands clasped, and says solemnly, "I played the flute in junior high."

Just as seriously, Dan tells her, "We could start a band."

A slow smile spreads across Serena's face. "We should probably practice first. To see if we're compatible."

Dan smiles a little too, holding out a hand that Serena takes. Nate watches them go with something like disbelief, frowning.

"Well look at that," Blair says, sounding amused. She doesn't elaborate, however, instead tugging on Nate's sleeve. "Come on, I'm going to make you do 'I'm sorry' shots."

Reluctantly, Nate allows himself to be pulled away.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asks, trying not to sound jealous.

Blair shrugs, waving a hand. "He might be somewhere around here," she says, very pointedly casual. "If no, I'm sure he'll be here by midnight. Now." She pats the barstool next to her. "Time to make apologies."

He does shots until Blair deems herself satisfied. She watches him the entire time with a very focused, half-suspicious stare; it reminds him of Dan, really. Nate used to be better at holding his liquor but he's out of practice, so he's dizzy and nauseous almost immediately. It's probably half nerves, at least, but instead of relaxing him the alcohol puts him on edge.

Blair and the girls are laughing again, maybe at him, as Nate unsteadily gets to his feet. He balances with one hand on the wall, making his way slowly and carefully. He tries to find Dan and Serena in the slightly shiny-blurry crowd and spots them still playing. Serena is totally rocking out, tossing her hair back and forth, spinning, for all appearances having the best time anyone has ever had playing Guitar Hero. And Dan is watching her with a huge grin, laughing. He's laughing harder than Nate has ever seen him laugh, and it almost makes him seem like a different person. He cheers louder than anyone when Serena finishes with a twirling flourish.

It bothers Nate, annoys him, and he doesn't know why.

"Having fun, Nathaniel?"

Still frowning, Nate turns to see Chuck observing him. "I guess."

"Haven't seen much of you since Blair told everyone your father was a cokehead," Chuck says. He leans on the wall next to Nate, sipping scotch in that on-purpose way of his. He's wearing a suit and an ascot. Nate is wearing jeans and a blazer, but only because he wanted Blair to think he put an effort in. "Embarrassed to show your face?"

"Sure," Nate says. He faces away from Chuck again. "That must be it."

"I heard you were holed up in Brooklyn, of all places."

"I wasn't _holed up_ anywhere."

"Someone's acting like a little bitch," Chuck says, amused. "Is it your family that's getting you down, Nathaniel? Or is it being in the same room with one girl you fucked and one girl you never did?"

Nate spins on the spot, half terrified someone heard but mostly just angry. But he's too drunk for moving that briskly and he has to put his hand on Chuck's shoulder so he doesn't fall or vomit or something. "You need to _stop_ ," he says.

Chuck's eyes shift to a spot over Nate's shoulder. "Looks like your new best friend is stealing your girlfriend."

Nate doesn't give in to the temptation to look around. "I don't have a girlfriend," he says, pushing Chuck back against the wall hard before leaving.

He goes outside to gulp some fresh air, leaning heavily on the railing.

"Are you okay?"

People have got to stop appearing over his shoulder. "Yeah," Nate sighs, as Dan steps up next to him. "I'm okay."

Dan nudges a bottle of water into Nate's hand. "Blair put you through a set of trials, huh?"

Nate's honestly surprised he noticed, since he was so caught up with Serena. "Nah, that's nothing for Blair. She's not even warming up yet." He glances at Dan, unscrewing the bottle cap. "You and Serena were having fun."

Dan smiles a little, genuinely. "She is fun."

Nate nods. He swallows water but wishes it was more booze, feels more unsettled by Chuck than he wants to admit to himself. Chuck was never the kind of person you trusted with secrets; he liked to hold on to them, wait for the right moment, and then expose them, reveling in the ensuing destruction like some people watch movies. Nate used to think that was funny, because it was never leveled at him.

Dan is studying him. " _Are_ you okay?"

"I –" Nate pushes the bottle back at him, stumbles down a few steps, and sits heavily. He drops his face into his hands. "I shouldn't've come."

Dan takes a seat too. "Why not?"

"It's too…" Nate shakes his head. "It's too hard. It's – It's not fair, trying to get Blair to forgive me, acting normal, when…" He sighs.

"Your family's just going through a rough patch," Dan says. "It's not your fault. You just have to – to stick it out. Like…me with my mom. I know the situations don't really compare, but –"

"It's not that," Nate interrupts. His voice is soft, heart suddenly hammering. "It's not – it's not family stuff."

"Oh," Dan says. "Uh. You know, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to–"

"I do want to," Nate says, surprising himself. He just wants to say it so badly. He wants someone to know besides himself and Chuck. He wants someone to tell him he's not an awful person, not a piece of shit, even though he wouldn't be able to agree. But he likes the way Dan looks at him, that friendly open look, and it's so new that he's even more hesitant to lose it.

"Hey." Dan bumps his shoulder against Nate's gently. "It's alright, man. We're friends, right?"

Nate nods, opens his mouth, shuts it. "I –" he starts again, "I –" then in a rush, "I slept with Serena."

There is silence for a moment and Nate fears the worst. He can't look at Dan and he's hyper-conscious of the sounds of the party through the door, laughter and music and talking, the street sounds of cars and people walking their dogs.

"Oh," Dan says again. "Is that why you…why you left?"

Nate nods, ducking his head out of embarrassment.

Evenly, "Do you love Serena?"

"No," Nate says automatically, but it rings hollow, "Maybe. I don't – I don't know."

Dan nods and doesn't say anything else. _Do you hate me?_ Nate wants to ask, but doesn't. He's can't look at Dan for some reason, strangely worried about what Dan is thinking, what he'll say. He wonders if he's not the person Dan thought he was.

Dan takes a few long swallows from the water bottle and then says, "Well, are you still in love with Blair?"

Nate presses his lips together. "I don't know."

"Then," Dan says slowly, "You should probably figure it out."

Nate looks at him then. "That's…it?"

Dan shrugs. "It's…your life, you know. You can't wish your problems away, but you already knew that since it just got worse when you left. I don't know your life before, so I can't talk about it. But I think if you really wanted to be with Blair, you probably wouldn't have cheated on her. And if you really wanted to be with Serena, then you probably would have stayed."

Nate frowns a little. "It's not like that. You're making it sound like it's easy."

Dan tilts his head a little and his face is kind of unreadable when he says, "I think if you know what you want, then it is."

Nate sighs. "So. Figure it out."

"Figure it out," Dan agrees. He drops a hand onto Nate's shoulder and gives him a little shake. "Maybe don't drink so much."

Nate snorts. "Yeah, yeah."

They make their way back inside, where everyone is gathering around Blair and her birthday cake. In the dim room, she's silhouetted against the bright flare of numerous birthday candles – the black bell of skirt, her small waist, the elaborate pinned-up hair. Her hand is tucked into the bend of Serena's arm and they couldn't present more of a difference, standing there. Blair half-smiles, intent as she leans in to blow out her candles; Serena is beaming, hair loose, and she cheers loudly. Nate thinks she might shine brighter than the candles.

"Go on," Dan gives him a push, "Go say happy birthday."

Nate makes his way through the press of people just as Blair turns. Her eyes widen a little and her eyebrow arches. "I thought you'd left," she says.

Nate shakes his head. "It's almost midnight," he says. "I had to tell you happy birthday."

Her expression softens slightly. "Oh. Well. Thank you."

Nate remembers however many years of midnights on her birthday – back when they were still too young to be up so late, he would call her in the secret darkness of his room, tucked up in bed with his phone pressed to his ear. Later on he was usually with her. She would blow out her candles and then they would kiss, right when the clock hit twelve-oh-one.

"I have a present," Nate says, feeling suddenly sheepish. "For you." He hadn't put it on the huge pile with Jenny and Dan's; he's not sure why. He guesses he wanted her to have it right from him.

Blair looks at the wrapped box as he pulls it from his pocket. Nate had done it himself, mostly, though the maid had helped. "You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did," Nate says. He holds it out. "I know you...usually put stuff on hold. But I didn't want to… I mean, I saw this and it made me think of you. So. That's why I got it."

Both her eyebrows raise, curious and still somehow doubtful. She lets the wrapping paper fall carelessly to the floor and opens the box to find a silver charm bracelet. "Nate," she says, a little sigh in her voice. She lifts it up. It dangles a mismatched bunch of charms – an ice skate, a heart, and a tiny key, amongst others. Nate had found in a thrift store he'd gone to with Dan. He'd bought it as is, only adding one charm – a letter B.

"It's…old," he prefaces. "I know you might not like it…"

"It's incredibly childish and tacky," Blair says. "Not my style at all." She holds out her wrist. "Fasten it for me."

Nate half-smiles. He takes her wrist, pulling her a little bit closer. Her wrist is so slim and delicate between his fingers; somehow he'd never noticed before. The bracelet is a little too big on her as she jangles it around.

"Did, uh…" Nate looks around briefly. "Did your boyfriend make it?"

Blair looks up at him and her lips purse briefly before smoothing back into expressionlessness. "No," she says. "I don't think he did. We've been…fighting. Lately."

"I'm sorry," he says. But he's not, really.

"Yes, well –" Blair's gaze shifts up over his shoulder and her face splits into a wide, utterly false grin. "Cameron!" she exclaims. "We were _just_ talking about you!" She moves past Nate and launches herself into Cameron's arms. He laughs. Her bracelet makes a faint tinkling sound.

"Couldn't miss the whole thing, could I?" he says, slinging an arm around her shoulder and beginning to lead her off.

"You certainly made me wait," Blair says. She doesn't even look back at Nate.

Dan appears at Nate's shoulder with two plates of cake, one of which he hands over. He must've been waiting. "Tough break," he says. He takes a bite. "This cake is awesome though."

Nate laughs quietly. "That's something, I guess."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He runs because it's all he knows how to do.

Nate sits in his freshly pressed suit, knot of his tie right up against his throat, and uses his fork to shred his turkey without eating any, wishing he was somewhere else. His mother alternates gulps of wine with tiny bites that hardly count; both of their plates are practically untouched. She'd had his father's chair taken out of the dining room, but that doesn't make the empty space any less conspicuous.

"It's good, Mom," he says quietly, without feeling.

"Thank god Citarella was still open," she says. Another swallow of wine and the glass almost is empty, the maid darting forward to fill it again. "I had to improvise, considering we were disinvited from the Waldorfs'."

Nate sighs. "Mom –"

"Nor did your grandparents even _offer_ ," she continues.

Sullenly, he mutters, "I don't know why we couldn't go see Dad."

Anne's mouth tightens. "Nate."

It's _Nate_ when her patience is running thin and _Nathaniel Archibald_ when she's very cross, so he's got a little time before she's annoyed enough to shut the conversation down. There's no arguing after a full namer.

"He's alone," Nate presses. "He's miserable enough there without not getting to see us on Thanksgiving –"

"Nate," she says again, more sharply. "Frankly, I am in no mood to deal with your father on today of all days."

"It's not about _your_ mood," Nate says. Not dealing with this isn't getting them anywhere. "Mom, he's got a problem and ignoring it is what almost killed him. He's not going to get better if we don't do anything to help him."

"Oh _no_." Anne shakes her head a little, eyes wide and disbelieving. "No. This is not my fault."

"I'm not blaming anybody."

"You can blame whoever you want," she says, "Just not me. All I'm guilty of is trying to make his life easier."

Nate stares at her incredulously, food entirely forgotten. "Easier? You've made his life _impossible_."

He thinks of all the Thanksgivings before, his mother growing steadily sharper and his father winding up tight, the silent battle between them growing tenser with each year. How every time his dad brought up work, his mom would say something like _oh, I'll just talk to Daddy_ or _oh, I'll just write you a check_. At first all the fight would go out of his dad's eyes and he'd acquiesce with a holiday-friendly _okay dear_. Later, though – later it wasn't so easy.

They always thought Nate was too dumb or too blind to notice, but he did. He noticed. He saw.

She's looking at him now, at least. "What are you talking about? He's had everything he ever wanted just _handed_ to him. My father set him up with his own firm. He gave us the house we live in, the Hamptons house, the boat. He's never had to earn a dime and –"

"And how do you think that's working out for him, Mom, huh?" Nate interrupts.

Anne stares at him with that pinched look of hers. "All he had to do," she says slowly, rigid, "was put on a suit, sit behind a desk, and not get arrested – and he couldn't even manage that. And you want me to reward him? He lost _everything_ we had. He _ruined_ us. The only reason we still have our home is because of me. And you want me to give your father _more_ responsibility in this family?"

Nate looks sullenly down at his plate. He wishes he hadn't said anything. With a sigh, he drops his napkin on his full plate and pushes his chair back, gets to his feet.

Anne blinks at him, seemingly baffled. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere but here," Nate mutters as he makes a beeline right for the door. She doesn't stop him, because of course she doesn't.

He's got his phone out before the door's even shut behind him, but he's not sure who to call. He lingers on Blair's name for way longer than he should. They haven't spoken since her birthday. Things are different. He can't just call Blair anymore.

He scrolls down a little, hits send, and feels an immediate sense of relief when he hears Dan's voice, sounding cheerful.

"Big national holiday," Dan says brightly. "You excited?"

"Not exactly," Nate says. "You sound it, though. Things are going good with your mom?"

"So far." The line is muffled for a minute while Dan talks to someone else and there's the distant sound of family laughter. "What's up with you?"

Nate hesitates, unwilling to ruin Dan's day. "My mom's being kind of…my mom," he says finally. "I left."

"What? You _left_?"

"Yeah," Nate says. "Look, I'm sorry I called, I just –"

"No, no," Dan says. "You can't be alone on Thanksgiving. What are you even doing, wandering the streets? Get on the train, my mom made enough food for sixteen people and she is only too happy to feed you."

Uncertainly, Nate says, "I don't want to impose –" Which is all instinctual Vanderbilt manners.

"I will see you in an hour," Dan says. "And if I don't, I won't even save you leftovers. Goodbye, Archibald."

The line goes dead. Nate smiles.

The Humphrey loft is full of soft noise and the smell of food cooking, warm and relaxed. Everyone greets Nate all at once, talking over each other, and Dan rolls his eyes, shakes his head and mouths _these people_.

The woman who is obviously Dan's mother steps away from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron patterned with autumn foliage. She shakes his hand with both of hers and smiles in a way that reminds Nate of Jenny, though her eyes are all Dan.

"So this is the Nate I've heard so much about," she says.

"All good things, I bet," Nate says with an easy, mom-ready grin.

Dan snorts. "Someone has a high opinion of himself."

"You bet right," Allison says with a small smile, then adds with genuine concern, "Sweetheart, are you sure your mom's okay with you being here today?"

Nate opens his mouth with a quick white lie but finds he has none. Luckily for him, Dan steps up with some comment about keeping an eye on the pies and hustles his mother back towards the kitchen.

Nate is enlisted to set the table, Dan moving between him and the kitchen to get more plates or utensils. Rufus and Allison and Jenny weave around each other with ease, getting this or that ready, like they've done it all a million times before – which they probably have.

"You don't cook?" Nate asks, a small smile on his face as he sets down spoons and forks with Blair-trained precision.

"I opened the cranberry sauce," Dan informs him. "My work is done."

Nate should feel comfortable here but he doesn't. He can't help thinking of the cold house he left behind and the cold-eyed mother he left behind in it. He wants so badly what Dan has – he wishes his family could put their bullshit aside for _one day_ , just because it's a holiday, because they love each other, because they love Nate. But they can't do it.

It mattered less in the past because he had Blair and Serena to hide with, and this year he feels the void acutely. It's like whenever he forgets how much he lost, even for a second, he's reminded. He misses Serena's tipsy giggles and Blair's wide smiles, misses sneaking off with them later to devour leftover pie, misses delivering sleeping Serena to her mom at the end of the night.

But still, there's Dan. Nate watches him a little from across the table; Dan is more content than Nate's ever seen him, his smiles coming easier and easier. Dan and his family really enjoy each other and Nate finds that so strange. He's so envious.

Talking is obviously a family trait, because the Humphreys don't let up over the entire meal. Nate can only follows the threads sometimes – he loses it at movie talk but surprises them when it comes to politics. He'd remind them of his political pedigree but he likes the impressed look on Dan's face too much. The nonstop chatter is revealing, though, and it teaches Nate a thousand new things about Dan's family – about Dan, specifically. Dan who used to cry at Little League and whose hand had to be held on the walk to school up until second grade.

It makes Dan flush and mutter and grumble, but Nate just grins.

After dinner, Allison prompts, "Since you were absent from the cooking process…" and Dan is protesting before she's even done, pleading cranberry sauce expertise. Rufus laughs and talks over him, says, "Oh, Dan and Nate are used to kitchen duty by now."

The way they go out of their way to include him only seems to make Nate feel more out of place.

Once relatively alone, washing and drying, Dan's good humor fades somewhat, his concern evident. Yeah, Nate thinks – those are definitely his mom's eyes.

"You okay?"

Nate shrugs. He focuses on the careful drying of plates, leaves behind no streaks or spots. It's funny, he'd never washed a dish before Dan. That seems so stupid.

"You know my mom," he answers vaguely, though Dan doesn't. Dan raises his eyebrows and Nate elaborates, "She didn't want to go see my dad today."

"But it's Thanksgiving," Dan says.

Nate only shrugs again. "I know."

Dan nods a little, but he still looks faintly perplexed. "Isn't your dad near here? Why don't you just go?" He glances over. "I'd come with, if you wanted… Or, uh, not. If you don't."

Nate looks at him, hesitant. "I don't want to interrupt your day."

Dan gives Nate a look like he's deeply stupid and half an hour later they're waiting outside the Captain's room.

"Some ambiance," Dan remarks, giving a wave to a tired-looking nurse. Nate doesn't laugh. "He'll be glad to see you."

"I guess," Nate says. He hasn't seen his dad since he came back and he feels weird about that, guilty even. He'd wanted to come a million times but he just couldn't bring himself to. It's not even that it'd gone badly last time, but something about the image of his father gray and exhausted in rehab had stuck with him, deterred him.

He wants to see his dad, but he'd been kind of hoping his mom would be here too.

Dan stays outside when Nate goes in. His dad's sitting in one of those sturdy-and-cheap wooden chairs by the window, looking tired.

"Hey, dad," Nate says quietly, lingering by the door.

His dad nods a little. "Where's your mom?"

Nate drops his gaze. "Couldn't make it."

He sighs. "How is she?"

"She'll be alright, I'm sure." Nate tucks his hands in his pockets. His tie is loose around his neck and he'd left his jacket with Dan. "She's always alright, one way or another."

"She has a lot to deal with," his dad says. Nate's surprised. His parents rarely give each other any credit, preferring veiled barbs. Once, before he left, Nate remembers they had a fight over something stupid and his dad said, _All she has to do all day is sit on some committees and get her hair done, what's her problem?_

_You_ , Nate had thought. _You've always been her problem_.

Eventually Nate makes his way across the room to sit with his dad. They're mostly silent but sometimes they make small talk about his dad's progress or Nate's school. Nate swallows everything he really wants to say ( _We need you, Dad. It might not seem like it, but we do_.) and tries to come up with good news to share, though he has none. The Captain says he's glad Nate came, though Nate's not really sure of that.

Dan walks him to the train afterwards. He must look really miserable, because last minute Dan gives him a brisk one-armed hug, yanking Nate close and releasing him just as fast.

"Chin up, kid," Dan says.

Nate passes through his own house like a ghost. The dining room is bare of the spread from earlier and his mother's door is firmly closed. Nate lets himself into his own room and drops onto the bed with a sigh.

His phone buzzes.

Nate frowns as he checks it, confused, but answers almost immediately. "Blair?"

"Are you avoiding me?"

Her voice sounds soft and small, a side of Blair he hasn't heard in over a year.

"No, of course not," he murmurs. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you are," she says. He doesn't deny it again. "Today was awful."

"Yeah," Nate breathes. "Yeah, it was."

Last year had been better. Last year they'd all been together, at least, and they could ignore the bad stuff for a day because of that, because they had each other.

"What happened to you?" she asks.

"My mom happened," Nate says, a little grumbling. "You know how she is."

"Yes," Blair says, with a soft sound of amusement, not quite a laugh. "I bet she didn't blink once the whole day."

Nate smiles a little, involuntarily. "Pretty much. How's yours?"

Any good humor dissipates and Blair says with forced lightness, "Oh, you know Eleanor."

"Yeah, but tell me," Nate says softly. He could really use that right now – something familiar, something he knows.

"She just thinks she decides everything, you know?" Blair says. "Everything in the world is just totally up to her." She goes on to tell Nate that her dad was disinvited and her mom tried to play it off like he just didn't care enough to come; Serena showing up trashed and passing out before the first course; Cameron breaking up with her.

"That's some day," Nate says, voice still soft, and feels even worse for not having called her earlier.

"I don't even have an escort for cotillion now," she huffs.

He hesitates. "You know –" Then falters.

There's a stagnant, expectant pause and then she repeats, "You know?"

"I mean…" Nate clears his throat. "We've talked about going to the ball together since we were like…ten. And I know I've given you every reason to hate me, but…" In a rush, then, "But why don't we go together, for old times' sake?"

There's a beat of silence that feels so long Nate's beginning to regret asking. Finally, she says, "Nate, the only thing we should be doing together is moving on."

"I know, I know," he murmurs. "But – look, you don't have a date and I think you're forgetting what an _excellent_ dancer I am –"

She laughs a little. "Maybe…maybe we could go together – as friends."

He smiles. "Absolutely."

"But _only_ as friends."

"Just friends," he assures her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"No," Dan says.

"Come on, man," Nate coaxes. "It's one night. You can suck it up for one night."

"No," Dan says again. "It's an antiquated, classist ritual that sells girls to the highest bidder like it's still the eighteenth century and –"

"And Serena needs a date," Nate says. "You liked Serena. Plus you and I will get to hang out the whole night, so it'll be a little more bearable. _Please_?"

"I find it hard to believe Serena van der Woodsen doesn't have people lined up around the block," Dan says.

"But you're my _friend_ ," Nate says. "Just come, it'll be fun. Antiquated, classist fun." Again, for good measure and because Nate is a polite sort of guy, " _Please_."

Dan sighs. Dan's sighs always sound particularly exhausted, like a whole person's life condensed into one exhalation. "Fine."

Nate grins. "Knew I could count on you, man."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nate has wrangled both Humphreys into helping him, though Dan is a great deal less enthused then Jenny. She eagerly agrees to assist with cotillion, trailing behind Serena's mother and grandmother with a little clipboard, her gaze straying with an obvious wistfulness to the other kids dancing.

Dan is across the room, waiting patiently and smiling a little as Serena switches her shoes from the day's boots to her dance heels. She's talking the whole time, charming him. Nate can tell.

Blair is in the bathroom, so Nate's waiting on her, just sort of drifting a little at the edges of the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Then he hears –

"– matter, she's just going to puke it up anyway," followed by a rush of nervous-and-nasty laughter.

Nate freezes and doesn't look up, back of his neck prickling. It was one of Blair's friends who said that. But he doesn't know – they could be talking about anyone. He's being paranoid. It could be anyone.

Then another of the girls says, "It's like, so embarrassing, do you know why Cameron dumped her?" He think it's Hazel, the blonde.

One of the others chimes in, "I heard she and Nate were hardcore gazing at her party."

"No, no," Hazel says, sounding gleeful, "It's because when they did it, she was like – oh my god, like _awful_." They laugh again. "Like awful, like so bad. Nate's gotten weird, anyway, he's totally queer for that weird loner guy."

Nate presses his lips together.

"Oh my god, don't even _say_ that," Penelope exclaims.

Another girl laughs. "They say girls go for a boy like daddy."

Nate doesn't know what to do – go over there so they know he heard them? ignore it? – but he's saved from the decision by Blair stepping up beside him. She smiles brightly. "Ready?"

Nate returns the smile even though he isn't feeling it. "Ready."

He kind of hates how easy it is to remember all of this. A year away but the childhood dance lessons are still lodged in his brain. All the evenings in Blair's room where, giggling like she only did in private, she would arrange his arms to her liking and try to make him into her Fred Astaire. Nate could never stay focused enough to do a good job but she never really seemed to mind. She scolded him but it wasn't real scolding, he knew the difference.

"Penelope is panting," Blair says in a low whisper. Nate blinks as they separate briefly to other partners; when their hands meet again, he gives her a quizzical look. "She's always had a thing for you. I think she was hoping our breakup would end happily for her." Blair's narrowed eyes slide to the side, looking for Penelope, and she smiles meanly. "Too bad."

"What are you talking about?" Nate asks, spinning her.

"She has a _thing_ for you," Blair says. "She wants to be Mrs. Nate Archibald."

He laughs. "That's crazy. No she doesn't."

Blair only smiles, giving him a playful shrug as they separate again. There are a few more turn around the room, weaving through and around each other, a quick succession of partners. Nate gets a good laugh out of Dan almost tripping; less so when Chuck hisses at him, "Getting cozy with Blair again, I see." Then Nate finds himself facing Serena, and he forgets about dancing entirely for a second.

"Hey," she murmurs in that soft way of hers, giving him an uncertain smile as their hands fit together.

"Oh," Nate says, "I see we're talking again."

Her smile widens, becoming more familiar. "Don't be mean," she says as he twirls her. "I'm sorry about that."

Nate returns the smile despite himself. "I guess Blair is allowing you to speak to me now?"

Serena bites her lip. He'd meant it half as a joke, the kind of Blair joke they used to make a lot – oh, Blair's letting us have junk food again? oh, Blair's permitting us to choose a movie? – but the solemn expression that settles over her features means she definitely didn't take it as one.

"Don't do this if you don't mean it," Serena says.

He's confused. "What?"

They switch partners briefly, meet again. "Don't start up with her again if you don't mean it," Serena says, a fiercely protective note in her voice. "You'll just end up hurting her."

"We're not getting back together, we're friends," Nate says, taken aback. Blair doesn't even _want_ to date him anymore. "We're not getting back together."

She looks doubtful, turning away from him to fall back into Dan's arms. "Then what are you doing?"

Nate finds himself similarly returned to Blair, and he works up a smile for her. "Having fun?" he asks.

"Not as much fun as Serena," Blair says, "Story of my life." She points a few feet off. "Those two are hitting it off. Maybe Serena's found herself a new white trash boyfriend."

Nate looks, surprised to see Dan and Serena have botched up the entire dance in the last few minutes. They've mangled the steps and dissolved into uncontrollable laughter, Serena leaning on Dan with her head on his shoulder like they've known each other for two years and not two weeks.

It bothers Nate. It irritates him and he's not sure exactly why, it's not like he and Serena are – and Dan definitely isn't going to date her, that's ridiculous, because –

"Dan's gay," he tells Blair, voice sounding hard even to himself.

"Oh?" Interest piqued, she peers over at Dan and Serena again. "Is he? I wouldn't have guessed, with _that_ wardrobe. Though I suppose if the last seventeen years have proved anything, it's that my gaydar is faulty."

Her delivery is so quippy and casual that it startles a laugh out of Nate; soon enough everyone is dancing again and he forgets that he said anything about Dan.

Afterwards they're all walking down the street together, the four of them with Jenny scampering a few feet behind. Serena is explaining quite earnestly and emphatically about one time last year when Dan saved her life; apparently he gallantly sacrificed a stack of pies to the gods of traffic (Dan's phrasing) so he could scoop her out of the path of an oncoming car.

Blair stares at them, frowning, and Nate unconsciously mirrors the expression. "That's ridiculous," Blair says. "If you were that drunk how do you even remember?"

"You're probably getting mixed up," Nate adds.

But Dan and Serena's good cheer cannot be quashed. Eventually they separate, the girls turning up one corner together and everyone else down another, as Nate figures he'll walk Dan and Jenny to the train. However, they've barely made it down the block when Jenny's phone goes off and, upon reading the text, she stops dead in her tracks.

"Dan…" she says, glancing up at him with her brow furrowed. "Dan, you're on Gossip Girl."

Dan's face contorts in a mix of horror and bewilderment that makes Nate start laughing. But Jenny is far from amused.

"Dan, look at this," she says seriously. "It says – it says you're –"

Dan and Nate both crane over her shoulder to read the small screen. As he scans the lines ( _looks like N's new bromance is a lot less bro and a lot more 'mo_ ) Nate's stomach begins to sink.

"I don't get it," Dan says, voice even but edged with panic. "How did she know? I've only told –"

And he looks right at Nate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dan still isn't speaking to him by the time cotillion rolls around.

Nate doesn't blame Dan (he was aware that the excuse _I just told Blair!_ didn't hold up very well) but he's still selfishly bothered by it. Nate is suddenly once again subjected to lonely walks from class to class, no one to meet on the way to school, no one to have lunch with. He wonders how it is he keeps dropping friends so fast. The only person who still has any time for him is Blair but he finds himself avoiding her and the shiny hopeful look in her eyes.

Nate had been surprised to find out that Dan was still going to cotillion with Serena but it appeared that the blast had brought them closer as it pushed Nate and Dan apart. Nate sees them around school a lot – sees Serena steal Dan's books and refuse to give them back, holding them out of his reach; sees Dan proofreading Serena's papers as she waits, her chin resting on his shoulder; sees Serena snap at a boy who calls Dan a name in a way Serena rarely snaps at anyone. Nate sees them look friendly and happy and tries to stamp down his irritation to no avail. He really shouldn't begrudge either of them friends, not after all the messes he's made.

The worst thing Dan said in the fight hadn't even been directed at Nate. Low and exhausted, to himself, Dan had said, "I get enough shit as it is. I don't need this."

It's funny, because Nate had been entirely unaware that Dan got any shit at all. He thought Dan was quiet and inconspicuous because that was what he liked, but it wasn't until the days following the blast that Nate really _got_ it. He didn't understand that Dan was an outlier because of things like money and family and status, didn't understand until the blast happened and Dan got nasty names written on his locker and whispered behind his back and disguised behind coughs in class.

Nate notices in part because he starts to receive some of it too. One day in the locker room before gym, he hears someone say _knew there was a reason he and Blair never fucked_.

Nate wouldn't care except he doesn't have Dan to complain to. He doesn't have anyone to complain to.

Nate goes to pick Blair up before cotillion in the tux she approved with her favorite flowers in his arms and feels like he never left at all. He feels like he's wearing the mask of Blair's Boyfriend, with an appropriate smile and implicit promises. He doesn't feel like he's going as her friend, especially when the elevator doors part on her silvery and grinning with the charm bracelet he bought her jingling on her wrist.

"Oh, these are _beautiful_ ," she says, taking the flowers and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"You look beautiful," he tells her, smiling despite himself. It's the kind of thing the Boyfriend is supposed to say, but it's true so he doesn't mind it.

In the car ride over, Blair keeps up a steady stream of conversation, seeming not to notice Nate's lack of enthusiasm. He tunes in and out of it, realizing after a moment that all the plans she's explaining to him are plans they made years ago. Playground plans, Blair's plans with her Boyfriend.

"I asked Serena and Dan if they wanted a ride, though I know he's…angry with you," Blair is saying. He is momentarily touched that she tried to include Dan. "I attempted to explain to him that it wasn't your fault but, well, he's very stubborn, isn't he?"

"Thanks," Nate says, giving her a half-hearted smile. "For making the attempt."

Her returning smile is the most sincerely happy he's seen her look since before he left. Nate almost _wants_ to play boyfriend again, as long as it makes her look that happy. He takes her hand, bracelet clinking. "It'll be great," he tells her softly. "The whole night. It'll be great."

They don't see Dan and Serena until they're lining up on the staircase. Nate is right behind Dan but Dan doesn't even glance at him, instead showing off his gold vest to Serena and complaining, "I look like Liberace."

"You look hot, shut up," Serena says, waving a hand dismissively at him before sliding it into his jacket. "Didn't I put a flask in here –"

Dan laughs, pushing her hand away. "Yeah, and I got rid of it. Tough luck, blondie."

As Serena gives a gasp of good-natured offense, Nate leans forward and starts, soft-voiced, "Hey, Dan ¬–"

But he's interrupted by Jenny traipsing down the stairs towards them, and Dan doesn't even turn.

"Serena?" she says, pushing up a little on the balls of her feet. "They need to know how to pronounce this word in your presentation statement –"

Serena, Blair, and Dan lean around the card together, Blair reading aloud, "Serena hopes to continue living on the Upper East Side, devote her life to volunteering for the Nature Conservancy, and have two wonderful children. She also –"

"I don't understand what is unpronounceable here," Dan says.

"You sound like me," Blair says, amused, as Serena snatches the card out of her hands. "Make it stop."

"I sound like my _mom_ ," Serena says, "I didn't even write this."

"Lily probably thought drinking your way through two and half years at Brown wouldn't sound as good," Blair remarks.

"Don't be a brat," Serena says evenly. There's a telltale mischievous glint in her eyes that Nate knows from experience will only lead to disaster – though sometimes it's spectacularly _fun_ disaster. "Dan, do you have a pen?"

Dan, of course, does. The three of them huddle together, laughing, as Serena scrawls in a new statement, Dan and Blair offering suggestions as she goes. Nate feels that now-familiar flash of annoyance that he cannot place or explain.

Dan and Serena make their way up to the podium first, her arm in his. Nate frowns a little.

The chairwoman beams at Serena indulgently. "Serena Celia van der Woodsen," she announces. "Daughter of committee member Lillian van der Woodsen, granddaughter of chair woman emeritus Celia Catherine Rhodes. Escorted by Daniel Humphrey. Ms. van der Woodsen plans to follow in her mother's footsteps and entertain numerous affairs with as many married millionaires as she c–"

The woman breaks off uncertainly as a ripple of amusement passes through the crowd. Dan kisses Serena's knuckles and then she curtsies at her horrified family as they move past.

When it's Blair's turn, she smiles at Nate so hard that all he can do it smile benignly back and then look away, look anywhere else.

After, as they're all making their way to the dance floor, Nate sees Serena off to the side. Face miserable, arms crossed, she is silent as Lily reprimands her. "I don't know why I'm even surprised, Serena, honestly, this is just like you – you have to take every opportunity to embarrass me. And for what? What do you get out of making a mockery of me, of your grandmother?"

"I wasn't thinking about –" Serena starts, voice small.

"No, of course not, you're never thinking about anything," Lily says. "Everything is some wonderful accident that just happens to you. Your lack of culpability is almost worse than the messes you get yourself into, Serena."

"Mom…" Serena murmurs, eyes downcast, "Mom, I have to go dance…"

Lily casts a distracted glance at the assembling dancers. "Fine," she says curtly. "Go dance. Try not to ruin that too. We'll finish this later."

Nate is about to step away from Blair just because he can't ignore Serena standing there looking so sad, but before he can move Dan is at her side, laying a hand on her hip. Dan says something in her ear that makes her laugh a little bit, blinking wet eyes, before he leads her towards the other couples.

Nate feels a little less charitable suddenly.

When the dance begins Nate can't stop watching them, even as Blair says, "You're being weird, what's –"

It just bothers him. Dan is one part of his life and Serena is another and he thought he wanted them to be friends but now he realizes some lines are better left uncrossed. This is Nate's own fault, like everything else. If he hadn't made Dan get involved then Dan wouldn't have been outed and everything would be fine, separate and fine, and Nate wouldn't be so jealous.

He almost skips a step. Why would he be jealous? There's nothing to be jealous of.

"I see what you're doing," Chuck says, as they pass each other. "Getting Humphrey to keep Serena warm while you make your choice – it's a low move, Archibald. I like it."

"Fuck off, Chuck," Nate mutters impatiently.

But Chuck only grins. "You'll wish you hadn't said that."

Nate feels a flash of brief worry, but Blair is in his arms again with that sweet concerned smile she never shows anyone else, so he puts Chuck's empty threats from his mind.

But Nate should've known better than that.

None of them have their phones on them when the blast goes off, but the laughter from the other kids is enough to signal that it's going to be brutal. "Nice one, Archibald!" someone calls out and the bottom drops out of Nate's stomach.

Blair's brow furrows and as soon as the music ends she's grabbing Jenny Humphrey by the upper arm, demanding, "Show me your phone."

"Blair –" Jenny starts hesitantly, gaze flicking back to Nate. "I'm not sure –"

"This is not up for debate, Little J!" Blair snaps. Nate looks over Blair's shoulder, dread mounting.

_Well, well, well, it looks like the reason for N's sudden departure last year has finally been revealed. Imagine all this time it was right under B's nose. Or at the very least sitting next to her on the steps_.

Blair is completely still as Nate shuffles back a few steps, automatically putting distance between them. He can see how straight her back is, her posture so tight she's almost trembling with it. "I knew it," she says quietly.

But then she turns, eyes red and wild. "I knew it!" she shrieks, throwing Jenny Humphrey's cellphone at him as hard as she can. "I always knew there was something between you!"

"Blair…" Nate doesn't know what to say. And just like that, before an apology even passes his lips, he runs. He bolts, out past Blair and half their class and half their class' parents, past people who have known him his entire life and come to expect no better from him than this.

He runs because it's all he knows how to do.

Nate comes to a stop in one of the hallways off the lobby and he sinks into a chair, breathing hard, head in his hands. When he feels someone touch his wrist, he starts, but it's only Dan. Of course it's Dan.

Dan crouches down in front of Nate, pulling his hands away from his face. Dan's touch is light and soothing on Nate's wrists, his neck. "Nate," Dan breathes, helpless. His hand is on Nate's cheek and then his mouth is on Nate's mouth, surging up into the kiss natural as breathing.

Nate closes his fingers around Dan's lapels and kisses back on a sigh. "What are you doing?" he mutters.

Dan flinches and tries to pull back but Nate holds him firmly in place and lets his mouth open against Dan's, lets the kiss deepen. He feels his heart climb into his throat and beat there furiously.

"Nate," Dan says again, something breathless in his voice. His fingers tug at Nate's hair and his kissing is all kinds of feverish relief as he leans up on his knees and presses close. "I want –"

But Nate just kisses Dan again and again in the quiet of the hallway, a kind of noiselessness in his ears like finding a seashell and holding it up to hear the ocean.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan is calling again, and again Nate hits _ignore_ , turning up his music as though doing so will tune out his brain.

Dan is calling again, and again Nate hits _ignore_ , turning up his music as though doing so will tune out his brain.

They haven't spoken since –

Nate turns the music up and up as he runs, even though the whole thing is an exercise in stupidity. Half the music on his iPod is Dan's, anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nate goes to visit his dad but he's fidgety and uncomfortable the whole time, unable to follow the thread of conversation because he's thinking about the last time he was here, how Dan brought him and then waited around until he was done.

"Hey, Dad," he interrupts. His dad is surprised enough to actually stop and look at him. "I don't know how much you know, but I, uh… I really messed up with Blair. Badly."

"Get her some flowers," the Captain says. "Candy. Hell, give her one of those family heirlooms your mother's always on about. She'll forgive you."

"No, that's not what I mean." Nate suppresses a little huff of impatience. "I think it was for the best, not – not that I went about it right, but in the end… In the end it had to happen. The thing is –"

"Blair is a good girl," his dad says firmly. "She's been there for you since nursery school. Do what you have to do to make up with her. You won't regret it."

That sigh had still been rumbling somewhere in Nate's chest, and he releases it now, slowly. "Okay, Dad. Thanks."

Once out on the street, Nate hesitates. He could just get on the train home. He could go home and sit in his room not doing his homework, ignoring everything and everyone. He could very easily do that, but instead he starts walking until he's in front of Dan's building. And then he goes up.

His biggest fear is honestly what to expect from the Humphreys as a whole, but they seem unaware that anything out of the ordinary is going on with Nate and Dan. They even look pleased to see Nate.

"We're so glad you boys aren't fighting anymore," Mrs. Humphrey ( _Allison_ , Nate corrects mentally) says warmly. And for whatever reason, Nate's ears go pink.

He knocks on Dan's door and takes a deep breath when Dan answers, steeling himself before going inside.

Dan hadn't been expecting him, of course, and he does a little bit of a double take, going from relaxed to tense so fast he might've hurt himself. "Nate," he breathes, just like that – just like he had at cotillion, when they were alone.

"Hey." Nate leans back against the closed door, feeling every inch of the distance between them.

There's an awkward beat before Dan launches into what eventually reveals itself to be a lengthy apology. "I crossed a line and took advantage and it – I should _not_ have done that, I'm really sorry –"

"How long did you –" Nate falters. "Have you…felt like that…for long?"

Dan goes slightly red. "Does that matter?"

Nate bites his lip, toys with it between his teeth until he notices Dan noticing. "Why?"

"Why what?"

_Why me?_ Nate thinks, but doesn't say. He clears his throat. "You don't have to be sorry."

Dan straightens up but doesn't stand, doesn't bridge the gap. He wets his lips. "I don’t?"

Nate starts to move forward, which seems to jolt Dan so that he's getting to his feet, moving too – and then there's Rufus' voice from the other room loudly declaring dinner is ready. Both of them flinch, twin looks of annoyance on their faces, but Dan laughs and, relieved, Nate echoes it.

As they turn to leave the room, Dan puts his hand on Nate's back, right between his shoulder blades – half directing, half friendly. Nate feels it all through the meal like a brand. He hadn't expected Dan touching him to feel different – he hadn't really expected Dan touching him at all.

Dan walks him out after, not an altogether unusual thing but just odd enough that the rest of the family seems aware of it. Nate's heart beats hard in his chest, knowing that even though they know about Dan now, they don't – they wouldn't assume he and Nate were –

In the vestibule Nate turns to say goodbye and he's suddenly shoved up against the wall, Dan's mouth hot on his. Nate doesn't mean to but he groans and he grips Dan's shirt, digs his fingers into Dan's arms. It's like the last time they kissed, and not like that at all.

"See you tomorrow," Dan murmurs, and then nearly smirks, looking so proud of himself that Nate cups his cheeks and kisses him again.

"Tomorrow," Nate repeats. He leaves Dan looking happily dazed. The feeling in his own chest is lighter than it's been all day.

Now there's only school to worry about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

School is…not what Nate expected.

In some ways, it is: Blair is definitely furious, stalking the halls with her entourage like personified thunderclouds. Nate is tripped at least a dozen times by five different girls. Chuck is so smugly triumphant that if Nate hadn't already known the blast was his doing, he'd figure it out real quick. But otherwise, with everyone else at school, it's like Nate is the golden boy again, getting handshakes and high-fives.

"Scoring with _Serena_ ," the boys say, all variations on the same theme, "Congratu-fucking-lations, man."

"That's not how it is," Nate tries, to no avail. "She's my _friend_ ," but no one wants to hear it.

He doesn't know if Blair and Serena are even speaking, because Serena isn't there on Monday – or on Tuesday. There are plenty of pictures on Gossip Girl of her throwing back shots, puking in club bathrooms, dancing on tables. Nate knows what people are calling her; he hears it everywhere he goes. They treat him like a hero, Serena like anything but.

It's his fault. He knows that – only it seems like no one else does.

On Wednesday he sees Serena being taken to the headmistress' office, unsteady and giggling with her arm in her English teacher's. He wants to say something but doesn't know what to say or how to say it, and he knows everyone would get the wrong idea if they saw.

"God, can you believe her," he hears one sophomore girl say to another. "She doesn't even _care_."

"And you know Nate and Blair were just getting back together, too," her friend adds disapprovingly.

Nate is fed up enough that he's tempted to interrupt, but really, what could he say?

 

 

 

 

 

 

He tries to talk to Blair even though he knows it's dangerous and stupid. She's never alone at school so it must be done in front of the squadron of girls, but Nate nevertheless screws up his courage and goes to apologize.

"Blair?"

He knows with one look that it's a mistake. Blair looks at him not so much with the coldness she'd had upon his return but a soul-deep _anger_. Her eyes flash but she doesn't speak, instead pointedly turning away from him. Almost as one, all of the girls narrow their eyes at him and turn away too.

"Okay, I deserve that," Nate sighs, but it's no use – she's not going to speak to him.

As Nate leaves, he sees Dan across the courtyard, perched on a table with the lip of a paper coffee cup caught between his teeth as he rearranges papers and books in his bag. He's alone. He's a mess, half his belongings spread out all around him. He glances up like maybe he'd been watching, checking on Nate even as he went about his business, and the sheepish wave he gives seems confirmation enough of that.

Nate tries not to smile, feeling an odd twinge in his chest, possibly a flutter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The one place Nate remains distinctly _un_ -heroic is at home. Halfway through dinner he's already plotting his escape from his mother's exasperated prying, that way she has of making him feel both impossibly stupid and utterly insignificant.

Anne never asks where he's going but sometimes he wishes she would. Right now he imagines telling her the truth: _I'm going to Brooklyn to kiss a boy, because apparently I do that now_. The thought fills him with equal parts terror and exhilaration.

That's what he's going to do. He's going to Brooklyn not just as an escape from home, not just to hang out, but with a specific goal in mind. He's spent the entire week making conversation before class and copying Dan's homework, wondering if Dan is ever going to touch him again and waiting for Dan to do so. Nate has spent a week teetering on the edge of desire and discomfort, because he might die if anyone knew about this but that doesn't stop him wanting it.

The thing that's been confusing him since cotillion is how natural it feels. Kissing Dan had been a relief, a calm spot in a storm. If his parents knew they'd probably lose it; Nate knows how it goes in his family with things like this. It's be all about burying it and moving on, pushing him on Blair or someone similar. He could never tell them about this.

But right now he can't even think that far ahead, because he doesn't even know what _this_ is.

Nate had anticipated disappearing into Dan's room like they usually did, but apparently the entire Humphrey clan is spending Friday night watching black and white movies. Dan's dad has his arm around Dan's mom at one end of the couch, looking cozier than any parents Nate's ever known; Jenny is sort of sprawled in the middle taking up the most space, her head on Dan's shoulder. Nate is stuffed between the arm of the couch and Dan, who is doing a very good job of being completely as ease, as though they aren't pressed together shoulder to knee.

Nate sits through two movies (two movies he's _already seen_ , thanks to Blair) and tries not to be obviously restless, but it's a lot harder than it should be. He feels like he can't move at all because jostling Dan would in turn jostle Jenny, and then Dan's parents, all down the line. It's annoying and the movies are kind of boring and Dan keeps brushing against him in little ways – the back of his wrist against Nate's fingers, his knuckles against Nate's arm.

It takes Nate an embarrassingly long time to realize Dan is doing it on purpose.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity of impatience, everyone begins to dissipate. Dan's parents have some last-minute things at the gallery to take care of before some big show; Jenny has a party at Hazel's to go to. She shoots Nate a slightly apologetic look, as though he has anything to do with her personal life, but she seems pretty pleased about it altogether.

And then it's just Nate and Dan.

Dan shifts over on the couch a little so they're no longer touching and grabs the remote. "Hungry?" he asks. "My dad made chili."

Nate doesn't have the ability to articulate his anxious over-eagerness, and he's slightly cross that Dan doesn't just take the reins immediately like he had last time. "No, I'm okay."

Dan slides a glance Nate's way. "Thirsty?" he asks, and Nate finally catches onto the teasing in his voice, the smile on his face.

"Dude, not cool," Nate huffs, unable to keep from smiling himself. He reaches over to grip a handful of Dan's shirt but then falters awkwardly. Deciding to bulldoze through it, he takes a breath and leans in, watches Dan's lips part and then –

"Wait," Dan says. "Should we – should we talk about what's going on here?"

The answer to that is probably yes.

Nate nods a little as he leans closer again, satisfied when Dan's eyes begin to fall closed. "Sure. Let me just do this first –"

Fifteen minutes later finds them stretched out together on the couch, legs tangled and clothes all twisted around. Nate had started out on top but then they'd shifted, kept shifting around each other, trying to find a way to walk the line of too much and not enough – a line Nate knew very well thanks to Blair but had never been nervous about crossing before now.

He hasn't kissed anyone like this since Blair. Meaning: clothes too hot on hotter skin, hands skimming bodies with something akin to frustration, feeling bound by both expectation and apprehension. Every boundary seeming impossible to cross until you've crossed it.

Nate is trying to be a gentleman, touching only the safe parts of Dan – his neck, his face, his arms; or no-man's-lands like the length of his side, a covered shoulder. It only makes him more conscious of the parts of Dan he hadn't known he wanted to touch. Dan, for his part, is a lot less controlled; his hands keep pressing up against Nate's chest or digging hard into his thigh. He has less experience with this, Nate thinks.

Finally Nate has to pull back, though it takes several attempts, neither of them quite willing to stop. "Shit."

Dan laughs a little but Nate means it: shit. One kiss, even two – whatever, stuff happens. But the blood rushing around his veins, his heart thumping hard in his chest, the hips he is keeping _very much_ away from Dan's – that means something. A something Nate is not altogether prepared to address.

"Somehow I don't see a conversation happening now," Dan says dryly. He tugs at his collar like he needs a breather. His shirt is rucked up just the tiniest bit from the switching of position. Nate really wants to – "Eyes up here, buddy."

Abashed, Nate meets his eyes. There are a million questions waiting there: what is this, what does it mean, where will it go? Nate knows things like that always get answered eventually, one way or another, and it's not entirely a stalling tactic when he says, "You're the first boy I ever kissed."

How could he not have noticed, until now?

"Back at you." Dan is rubbing soft circles at the edge of Nate's jaw. "I really –" But he laughs again without finishing, shaking his head.

Nate likes that laugh. "What?"

"Not in a million years did I think _this_ would ever – that's you'd ever _want_ to do this. At all, but especially with _me_."

"You're the one who kissed me," Nate points out.

"Yeah, but I wasn't thinking about…well, anything," Dan says. "I wasn't thinking about what would happen."

"So why did you do it?"

Dan half-shrugs. "I just wanted to. You were so… " His hand falls away and so does his gaze, something embarrassed in the motion. "I had a crush on you for a while."

The last few months hardly constitute a while, but it's still longer than Nate was aware of. "Yeah?"

Dan wets his lips, a nervous, almost furtive gesture. "Well. Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Yeah, right after I came back," Nate says, a little surprised. That immediately? "At that café."

"No…" Dan is definitely embarrassed. "Uh, it was at this party. Like two years ago."

After some halting explanations, Nate remembers the party – Britt Martin's Halloween party freshman year of high school, before Blair had been settled enough at Constance to take over all celebratory duties.

And then vaguely, vaguely, Nate remembers Dan.

That dumb party, Blair telling him to _mingle_ and _stop moping_. She'd tiptoed up to whisper some naughty promise in his ear that he remembers being too drunk to take advantage of later. Serena brought Carter Baizen and got high as fuck, made out with him on the couch in the living room and then left for somewhere more exciting.

Nate had gone into the crowd with a drink in his hand and seen a boy leaning awkwardly against the wall, watching the party with alert eyes, wild curly hair hanging into his face. Nate had held out a hand and said, "I'm Nate Archibald."

"I know," the boy said, then looked ready to chastise himself. "Uh, I'm Dan."

"Dan," he repeated, tried a smile and failed. "Want a drink?"

A hopeful gleam in those dark eyes. "Uh, sure."

Nate wandered off and never did wander back. Chuck fed him shots and he passed out in the empty porcelain tub.

"Your hair was different," Nate offers. "Longer."

Dan nods, self-deprecating smile on his face. "If a fourteen year old girl ever offers to give you a haircut," he says. "Say no."

Nate feels suddenly very strange. It's worse than realizing he'd probably sat next to Dan in classes without realizing. It's worse to know that they'd actually spoken, that Dan was just… _there_ , out there wanting something that Nate had no conception of. And now they're here. Making out in Dan's living room.

"This whole time?" Nate says.

"You're freaked out." It's not really an answer, but it also might as well be yes.

"No, not…" Not freaked out. A little unsettled, maybe. Dan has had a crush on him for years, had a crush on him the whole time they were getting to know each other, was his friend but really – "I should get going. I mean, even my mom will notice if I'm gone half the night."

She wouldn't, though. Once the sleeping pill kicks in, she doesn't notice a thing until her alarm goes off in the morning.

Dan is upset. "I shouldn't have said anything. I just thought it would be weirder if I didn't… I… It's not like I was laying in wait or something, I just thought you were cute –"

"No, it's cool," Nate says, and presses a quick kiss to Dan's mouth like that will, indeed, make it cool. "I really just gotta go."

And he does, carried out of the loft by the same pressing eagerness that had brought him there in the first place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nate gets a text from Dan as soon as he's emerged from the subway. _I didn't mean to freak you out_.

Nate sighs and puts his phone away, putting off responding for now. He doesn't really want to go home yet but he doesn't know what else to do. So he does what he does: jogs around the park until his brain goes quiet. But it doesn't satisfy him for whatever reason; it doesn't settle him. He hasn't smoked in weeks, doesn't even have any weed left. He doesn't know what else to do with himself. He never had other hobbies.

Dan would read, probably.

Nate is not a reader.

He takes out his phone to finally text Dan back, since he's trying to be one of those people who faces things, but learning new tricks is a slow process so instead he finds himself calling Serena. He doesn't know why.

(He sort of knows why.)

Serena is drunk when she answers, and he knows this because instead of _hello_ , she says, "Woooooo!"

"Serena?" he tries, a little too loudly. He can't hear thumping music so she must not be at a club.

"Nate!" She sounds playfully admonishing. "You're not supposed to talk to me!"

"I know, but –" They haven't talked, _really_ talked, in so long. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, _Dad_ ," Serena laughs. She used to do that when she was really far gone – call him dad and Blair mom, mocking and sweet at once. It always bothered Nate, just a little.

"I want to –" He doesn't actually have any idea what he wants to say to Serena, only aware that _something_ must be said. "I'm sorry. I didn't – I didn't tell anyone. It was Chuck, you know – he saw us."

But Serena isn't listening, or at least is pretending not to listen. "Natie, we just got here, I gotta – Poppy, hold on –" There's the muffled sounds of movement, potentially getting out of a car if the sudden street noise is indicative of anything. "Nate, don't be sad, okay? Go do something fun."

"Like you are, right?" he sighs.

"Yup. Just like me," Serena says. "I always have the most fun, don't I?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nate ends up just going to Dan's the next afternoon unannounced. He seems to be getting good at the whole impolite dropping-in thing, and Dan has never seemed to mind before.

He isn't sure he's over it yet, his unspecified feelings of weirdness. But he knows that he wants to see Dan more than he doesn't. A lot more.

Mr. Humphrey waves Nate on to Dan's room without a thought. Dan's lying on his bed with one arm up behind his head and the other holding a paperback open. Sedaris. Dan likes him, Nate remembers. Dan doesn't start upon seeing him this time, but there is a clear wariness in the way he watches Nate.

Nate shuts the door casually and stands there a moment before asking, "Can I?" as he gestures to the bed. Dan nods, closing his book as he shoves over a few inches. Nate sits first and then lies beside Dan, letting his head lean into Dan's shoulder. He releases a long-held breath when Dan's fingers start to card through his hair.

"I really am sorry," Dan says. "I promise I wasn't writing Mrs. Dan Archibald in my notebooks or, like, calling your name out in my sleep or anything."

Nate almost smiles. "I know." He doesn't really feel like getting into it too much, but, "I don't want you to be…like, one of those people who has a crush on me. Not even me. That guy that's on Gossip Girl."

Expression thoughtful, Dan scrunches down a little so they're eye to eye. "I'm not," he says, amending, "I'm not _now_. I like that guy who's trying really hard to make things right with his friends. Who cares about his family more than anything. Who has legitimately embarrassing taste in music, and, if we're being honest here, disgustingly nice arms."

"Ah, man, now you're making me blush." This time Nate does smile.

They do another thing Nate hasn't done for a very long while: press in close and cozy, not for any reason except proximity. The bed is comfortably warm and Dan gently strokes the back of Nate's neck, and soon enough they fall asleep together, just like that.

When they wake up, Nate is tucked into Dan's side, face smushed against his neck. "Your hand," he mumbles, "is on my ass."

He feels the slight, silent movement of Dan's laugh. "In my defense, it is a nice ass."

"Yeah?" Nate's lips trail inattentively over Dan's throat, still sleepy, trying to figure out just how to angle for a kiss.

"Really nice," Dan says, a little breathy as he tilts his head up.

"No, other way…" Nate feels Dan laugh again, but is rewarded by Dan tilting back down, right into the kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Christmas Dan gives Nate a copy of _The Lorax_. "Dude," Nate says as he skims through the pages, "This is like the saddest book ever."

"I got it because of _The Petting Zoo_ ," Dan says, a touch anxiously. "Remember?"

The book Nate hadn't been able to read without falling asleep – though he'd tried, very valiantly, and made it about fifty pages in before giving up entirely. "Are you sure this isn't a crack about my reading ability?"

"Nah," Dan says, leaning into him, "If I wanted to do that, I'd get you _Moby Dick_ and watch you squirm."

Nate hadn't known what to give Dan for Christmas. He doesn't actually have a wealth of experience buying gifts at all: Blair always put things on hold, and signed his name to gifts she got for other people. His parents did the same when it came to presents for each other. With the exception of Blair's birthday charm bracelet, Nate isn't sure he's ever gone out with the specific intention of giving someone something to make them happy.

He ends up giving Dan this soccer jersey he's had since forever, or so it feels. It's one of the first things he can remember genuinely wanting. He's not even sure why it meant so much to him, and it definitely no longer fits, but the idea of Dan having it is somehow comforting.

Dan looks like he gets it, at least. There's that soft look in his eyes that he has when they kiss. He puts it on his old Cabbage Patch doll, who swims in it, and they both get a laugh out of it that thankfully breaks up the sentimental moment.

Nate has been spending most of the days leading up to Christmas with the Humphreys. Unlike his own home, tastefully decorated by the same hired professional since Nate was three, the Humphrey loft is a mishmash of fairy lights and candy canes, tree hanging with hand-painted ornaments from when Dan and Jenny were toddlers. Allison always seems to be baking cookies. It's the kind of picturesque holiday that Nate's family tries to manufacture every year, though it always rings false.

"You know what, though?" Dan muses. "I wish it would snow. Christmas should be white and snowing. I'd even settle for Manhattan slush."

Nate nudges his nose against Dan's cheek. "I don't think that's a favor I can call in," he jokes.

"No?" Dan teases. "The Vanderbilts can't swing that one?"

"Mm, nope." Nate shakes his head with a slight wrinkle of his nose. "Political plotting, emotional detachment, really well-stocked bars – that they can do. Weather manipulation? Not so much."

They're ostensibly working on a history project, the last big thing they have to do before winter break kicks in, but so far all Nate has managed to do is give Dan a hickie just under his shirt collar. "I don't think this is very productive," Dan tried, at first, but he was easily swayed.

Eventually Nate just closes the textbooks and lets them drop heavily to the floor so he can kiss Dan until they fall back onto the bed. Dan always puts his hands on Nate's face when they kiss, and there is something so grounding about that, so soothing about the sweep of Dan's thumb over his cheek.

Almost immediately, Nate's sliding his leg between Dan's. That's a Blair habit too, though Nate knows he shouldn't be making comparisons; he just remembers how he felt like it was the only thing he _could_ do, because she'd turn down most anything else but she'd press down on his thigh while they kissed. The first time he'd done it with Dan, Dan bit Nate's lip so hard it was sore the rest of the night. So at least Nate knows it's a good move.

They still haven't really talked about this.

Nate kept waiting for it to turn awkward enough that they _had_ to, but it never really did. It's just like it was before, only better, more. That's how it had felt with Serena, too, in a way – continuing on a road they'd already started on, development of what was already there rather than something entirely new. Nate knows what people think of him, but he's not a total idiot: he realizes now that the reason he could never put words to how Dan made him feel was because Dan made him feel like _this_ and Nate was too scared to admit it.

Dan being a guy doesn't feel like the important distinction it should.

"Gotta ask you something," Nate murmurs.

"You know how to pick a moment," Dan tells him, hands slipping under Nate's shirt. "Whatever it is, yes."

Nate chuckles softly, and continues on anyway, "There's this thing coming up soon. It's dumb, you'd probably hate it, but I gotta go for my mom, it's like the only committee she's even still on –"

"Please don't bring up your mom while we're making out. That woman is terrifying."

Nate gives Dan a little chiding nip. "It's for charity, it's called the Snowflake Ball, and I know that's really lame –"

But now Dan pulls back, giving Nate a look both quizzical and disbelieving. "Are you asking me to be your date to something?"

"Sort of," Nate says, even though he knows he can't really offer that much. He touches Dan's mouth lightly. "It would be kind of…stealth, since I can't really…tell my mom. But I want you to come."

He waits nervously for Dan's response, because he knows this could be a lot to ask, and he wouldn't blame Dan for being uninterested or even offended. This is just Nate wanting too much as usual: to not totally disappoint his family for once, but still get something for himself.

"Yeah, I'll come." Dan dips down to kiss Nate briefly. "What, did you really think I'd say no?"

Relief floods Nate. "Just hoped you'd say yes. Wouldn't be any fun without you."

Dan smiles against his mouth. "You've already won, you don't have to keep making your case."

"Just being honest," Nate says. He says it teasingly but it's the truth, and not having to lie or hold back for once makes him sincerely happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that it comes down to figuring out the details and making arrangements. Nate's mom won't let him off the hook without a(n official) date, and here Nate hits a brick wall: he doesn't want to lie to some random girl, but he also can't bring Serena as a friend without inciting a lot of drama. So he thinks the safest decision is to ask Jenny.

"Uh," Dan says. "You _do_ realize that to bring my little sister as your _date_ , you'll have to tell her you're my – uh, my friend but with kissing?"

Nate bites his lip. The thought had occurred to him. "Yeah." He hesitates, but, "I think that'll be okay. She won't tell anyone if we ask her not to, right?"

After a brief quiet moment, Dan's expression curious and thoughtful, he says, "If you're okay with that, then I'm okay with that."

Jenny's reaction is surprisingly understated, and she agrees to come along, mainly because, "Freshmen _never_ get to go to the Snowflake Ball." She pauses. "You know Blair's going to be furious no matter who you bring. And I'm probably not necessarily the least wrath-incurring choice."

Nate is a little surprised, if only because Jenny seems so sweet. He can't imagine her getting in trouble with anyone. "I think it'll be okay."

Jenny half-smiles. "Famous last words," she says. "Also, if you hurt my brother, I'll pretty much destroy you."

She says it with such simple straightforward seriousness that Nate revises his former opinion somewhat: sweet but with terrifying depths.

After that's settled, Nate takes a deep breath and calls Serena.

They haven't spoken since his last attempt at a phone call, when she was dizzy and drunk, unwilling to talk. She sounds different now – sober, or just sad. She sounds tired.

Nate starts with, "I have a favor to ask."

"Oh yeah?" Serena asks wryly. "What, go back in time and not fuck everything up like I always do?"

Nate swallows a little. "No, this wouldn't involve any time travel. Just putting on a dress and hanging out with Dan."

She listens while he outlines his pitch, asking her to be Dan's date one more time since they're friends now, though he gets it if she doesn't want to bother with functions populated by their classmates anymore. Serena doesn't say anything while she thinks about it, and he can just picture her sitting on her bed holding a pillow in her arms, maybe biting her lip.

"Why?" she asks plainly.

"Well, if you wanted to go, I figured it'd be good to know you had a friend," he says. "And, um… I don't want Dan to be too lonely."

"Uh-huh," she says.

Nate clears his throat. "He and I have gotten really close since I've been back, and I know you're good friends with him too, so…" He flounders.

Gently, Serena says, "It's okay, Nate."

He blinks. She couldn't possibly mean –

But then he thinks of how utterly unsurprised Jenny had been. Maybe he's a lot more obvious than he thinks. Maybe –

"I just think it would be nice if you came," he says. "I'm still sorry about…well, everything."

"Okay," Serena says, after another moment. "I'll come."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anne is brittle and tense before the ball begins, but it seems to have gone off without a hitch.

The large ballroom is decorated to the last inch, cool and blue-lit and shadowy, with big screens scattered around the room showing wintery scenes. There are trees in every corner strung up with glittering white lights and fake snow falls softly and sparingly over the center of the dance floor. There's faux frost everywhere. Jenny makes a delighted little sound when they enter, clutching his arm tightly.

Serena drags Dan off to dance immediately. Nate is obscurely proud of her, the way she twirls right in the middle of the room like she doesn't care at all if anyone is talking about her. The way she can still have fun even though everyone _is_ talking about her.

Nate leaves Jenny to compare dresses with her friends while he goes to get drinks for both of them (deeply considering a spiked one for himself), and the very first person he runs into is Blair. It's obviously on purpose because she's directly in his path, an unnerving smile curling her lips. That should've been the first sign.

"I'm shocked you didn't bring Serena as your date." Blair's gaze shifts past him to where Jenny is showing off her handmade beaded purse. "But then I didn't figure you for a cradle robber either."

"Jenny's nice," Nate tries with a shrug. "She's just a friend."

Blair's tongue curls against her teeth. "You have a lot of friends, don't you," she says.

_Not really_ , Nate thinks. He wonders just how risky it would be to try to apologize to her now. At least she's speaking to him.

"Have a nice night, I suppose," Blair says, nose wrinkling slightly. "Send your mother my regards; she always did know how to throw a party."

Nate releases a slow breath once she's moved on, thinking that might truly be it. He might escape the night with some glaring and muttering, nearly unscathed.

Serena keeps Dan busy on the dance floor but as soon as she gives him a breather, Nate carefully disengages from Jenny (who had been breaking down the current season of _America's Next Top Model_ for him, unasked) to head over. Dan is getting a bottle of water, looking distinctly out of breath, with his collar and tie askew. Nate itches to fix them – or really just wrap his hand in Dan's tie to pull him closer.

He settles for tugging at Dan's jacket to get his attention. Dan turns, an automatic smile on his face when he sees Nate that Nate can't help but return. "You know," Nate says. "I have heard really good things about the coat check at this place."

Dan's smile widens, and his eyebrow arches a little. "Oh, you have, huh?"

They don't actually end up in coat check. They end up in a storage closet, Nate pressed back against the closed door. Tuxedo jackets don't do much for arm mobility, so Nate settles for curling his hand around Dan's tie like he wanted, leaning into Dan's hand where it cups his cheek. It's like the knot of tension in his stomach eases, if only for a moment. Everything might suck and Blair might hate him and Serena might be miserable and it might all be Nate's fault, but for five minutes he gets to kiss someone he likes and feel sort of normal.

Before they go back in, Nate straightens Dan's collar, smoothes his jacket, sets him to rights. The smile Dan gives him in return is one of his softest.

Jenny is waiting at the entrance to the main room, arms crossed and foot tapping. Nate hadn't thought they'd been _that_ long.

Her tight shoulders drop when she sees them, face taking on a resolved expression. "You probably shouldn't go in there," Jenny says. "Like, really."

Dan and Nate exchange a glance, but Nate has that all too familiar sinking feeling. "Check your phone," he tells Dan, and then tries to be the brave guy he always fails at being by walking past Jenny into the room.

Everyone seems to notice him at once, and then the spotlight even swings brightly in his direction. People are snickering a little but Nate does his best to ignore them, searching out Blair in the crowd. He is not stupid, but he really should have known better.

He doesn't see her, not at first, but what he does see are all those huge screens. And what he hears is Dan behind him breathing a heartfelt, "Oh fuck."

All the screens are showing the same thing – him and Dan after cotillion. Nate sits, Dan kneels in front of him, and they're kissing. Over and over in a loop is their kiss, their very first real kiss, blown up to ridiculous proportions for their classmates to get a good laugh out of. Nate finally locks eyes with Blair, finding hers impassive and cold.

Nate thinks Dan pretty much summed it up.

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate always knew he was a disappointment but it's another thing to have it confirmed.

"So it's true?"

Nate pushes uneaten breakfast around his plate. Squashes a blueberry with his fork. Ignores his mother.

"Nate," Anne says tightly, eyebrow lifting as she frowns. Or tries to; she has no visible lines on her face. Her hand is wrapped around her glass of water the same way she holds glasses of wine. "Is it true?"

He sighs. "The evidence was pretty damning, wasn't it?"

She is understandably not amused. "You've become quite the source of gossip since your return, Nathaniel."

He lifts his gaze to meet hers. " _We_ were a source of gossip before that."

Frustrated, she says, "You certainly don't need to add to it. And especially with this – this ridiculous stunt. I suppose this is how you're choosing to rebel?"

Nate frowns at her. "No."

"You should be glad your father is busy recuperating," Anne says. "Otherwise I'd have to inform him, and we both know how he'd feel about this."

Nate stares at her stonily, his frown deepening. "Maybe that's the problem."

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe you and Dad are the real problem here," Nate says. "Not whoever I'm dating." He swallows hard once the words are out of his mouth, but he doesn't take them back, even though he and Dan haven't spoken in the days since the ball. He pushes his chair back. "His name is Dan, by the way, thanks for asking."

He throws his napkin down and leaves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"So," Serena says. She sticks a Starbucks cup in Nate's hand – salted caramel mocha, because she knows him well. "Is Anne losing it or what?"

Nate snorts. "What do you think?"

They're sitting on Nate's stoop, because at this point who gives a fuck anymore. Serena is a little hungover, wearing big sunglasses and a floppy hat, but she seems to be in slightly better spirits than the last few weeks. "Thanks for stealing the spotlight, by the way. Dad in rehab, slept with the girlfriend's best friend, _and_ gay – there's no room for anyone to talk about me."

"Don't forget the pending trial and jail time," Nate reminds her. "Also, not gay."

"Dan-curious," Serena amends. Then, "Have you talked to him?" When Nate shakes his head, she gives him a look over her sunglasses. "Nate."

"It feels weird, I don't –" He shrugs helplessly. "I don't know what to say. 'Sorry my drama got you outed not once, but twice; wanna make out?'"

She considers it. "That would probably work."

He tries to summon a twinge of amusement but doesn't manage it. "Everything just really sucks," he says, and though he wants it to come out light, the truth bleeds out in his voice. Everything does suck, and it's been like that way, _way_ too long.

"Yeah," Serena sighs. "Preaching to the choir, buddy." She looks down at her own cup, tracing her name on the side with a deep red nail. "I don't know what to do without Blair. She's never been this mad at me, ever. I think… I think –"

"You'll make up," Nate says firmly. Even with everything that's going on, he refuses to accept a world where that is not a possibility. "It's my fault. Blair should be mad at me."

Serena gives him a sad, sympathetic look. "It's not all your fault, Nate. I was there too."

"I left," he murmurs. Sometimes he thinks he never should have come back; sometimes he thinks he never should've left. "I lied."

"We _both_ lied," Serena says. "And, yeah, if it were up to me, it would've gone to the grave. But it didn't, so we just have to…" She struggles to define what exactly they have to do, and shrugs before finishing simply, "Deal."

When he doesn't respond, staring pensively down at the cracks in the sidewalk, Serena gives him a nudge. "Call your boyfriend," she says.

"He's not my boyfriend," Nate says absently. What had Dan called them? "He's my friend. With kissing." He slides her a sideways look. "You're being really cool about all of this, you know."

Serena shrugs, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose a little. "I am cool."

And that's what makes him smile. "Not if you _say_ you are. S'gotta be an unspoken thing."

"You don't get how it works," she says airily, "Since you're not as cool as me."

"That's true," Nate allows, and laughs softly. Serena echoes it, her own laugh a little higher and brighter. Everything sucks a little bit less, right then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

If on Friday Nate had left school amid pats on the back, Monday finds them more like shoves.

Metaphorically speaking, of course – none of the kids at St. Jude's are so openly aggressive. They operate in a different way, full of well-mannered rudeness, polite but snide. Sneers replace grins. Nasty names are disguised in coughs. Nate gets tripped moving between desks in class. It's a lot of dumb, petty bullshit and Nate has no interest in any of it.

What's worse is that everyone seems to find it perfectly okay to question him about things that are none of their business. Over the course of the day, Nate is asked if this is why he never slept with Blair; if he even slept with Serena at all; if he liked sleeping with Serena; if he's gay; has he slept with Dan? It goes on and on, and Nate maintains a sullen silence as he waits for the three o'clock bell. It seems about a million years away.

He and Dan don't have a ton of classes in common. Dan's in all the honor and AP ones, they take different languages, plus their gym and lunch periods just happened to not sync up. They have math together (Dan's not great at math) and history (Nate doesn't suck at history), but in math Dan takes the seat closest to the door and is gone as soon as class ends.

Nate spends every not-Dan class itching to see him but at the same time, once they're in the same room together, Nate can feel everyone's eyes on him. As soon as he gets within ten feet of Dan, it's like everyone holds their collective breath and waits – and honestly, Nate doesn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Jenny catches up with him in the five minutes between third and fourth period. "I didn't want to have to destroy you," she says breezily, "but Dan is really upset."

Frustrated, Nate can only offer, "I know, Jenny. I'm working on it, okay?"

"Not really." They stop outside her classroom and Jenny hooks fingers around her bookbag straps, staring up at him. "I just don't see the point of breaking up with him now that everyone knows. I mean, isn't that the hardest part?"

Nate blinks, ignoring the question to say, "We didn't break up." Even as he says it, he notices some of the girls in Jenny's class listening, probably filing that away to send in as a tip later.

"That's not how it seems on my end. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." She pokes his chest hard with one finger. Really hard. " _This_ time."

As Nate turns to head back towards the boys' wing, he comes face to face with Blair. Two girls flank her on either side, like a very imposing pastel girl gang, but she sends them off with a flick of the wrist. She has a mean smile on her face. He hates how familiar he's become with it.

"Learning what it's like to be whispered about?" she asks.

Nate raises an eyebrow. "My dad is a drug addict," he reminds her. "I already know."

There is a near-imperceptible faltering in Blair's expression, and he can only tell because he knows her so well.

"Blair," he sighs. "I've really – I've got enough to deal with. More than enough. My family, and you and –" He just wanted one stupid thing that was just his, and apparently he might not even have that anymore. He doesn't want his worry to show in his face. He hopes it doesn't. "So. Are there any other secrets of mine you want to expose to everyone?"

Blair studies him. "I don't know," she says finally. "What else do you have?"

He exhales a huff of breath and moves past her, effectively ending the conversation. "Fresh out."

Nate really needs a fucking vacation.

The class he has next is history. Dan takes the seat by the door again and keeps his eyes downcast the whole forty-five minutes. Once again, he's out the door as soon as the bell rings – but this time Nate had been ready for that. He's able to catch up with Dan halfway down the corridor.

He touches Dan's sleeve lightly, and Dan turns round looking like he's off to the executioner. "I don't want to have this conversation in the hallway," he says, sounding resigned.

Nate frowns. "Me either." And just in case Dan tries to blow him off, he adds, "But I don't want to wait for the end of the day."

"Alright." Dan sighs and glances around, chafing under the weight of everyone looking and waiting. "I'll text you. I have lunch after this period, we can do it then."

Nate doesn't care what class he has. He'll skip it. "Okay. Good."

He sits impatiently through English before finally starting towards Dan's determined meeting place: the third floor boys' bathroom, the one hardly anyone uses that's tucked away in the corner behind the art rooms. Dan is already there, over by the frosted window, looking pale and chilled in the tempered light. Nate shuts the door and then leans back against it.

"So…" Nate says. "Has this day been as shitty for you as it has for me?" He remembers that Dan wasn't exactly high on the social ladder before all this. "Or…shittier?"

Dan shrugs. "A few assholes called me Mrs. Archibald," he says. "Frankly, I've been called worse."

Nate ducks his head, embarrassed that he's managed to put Dan through all this. Dan was drama-free before Nate came into his life. "I'm sorry."

Dan gives him a curious look. "It isn't your fault." He runs a hand through his hair, clearly anxious. "Look. I know I shouldn't have – shouldn't've done this the way I did, kissing you like that where anyone could see, so that's – that's on me, and I'm sorry, I – I just really like you, I like you a lot, and if you don't want to – to do this anymore, that's fine, I know it isn't necessarily what you want, I meant – I doubt you wanted anyone to know, especially your family or whatever, and I don't know if you really… If it's really Serena, or even Blair, for you, so I get it, if this is too much, but I don't… It would be really hard for me to still be friends because I like you too much – maybe in the future, I don't know. The point is, I'm sorry and I didn't want it to get out like it did, so I get that it's probably over between us, and we just have to let it be over so I can go on being miserable in peace." He takes a breath. Nate raises an eyebrow. "Okay?"

Nate doesn't know when the babbling tipped over from crazy to endearing, or if he ever found it anything but endearing in the first place. Nate watches the way Dan's lips purse as he rubs a hand over his temples, the very picture of angst, and decides that if he doesn't kiss Dan right now, he's the idiot everyone always says he is.

"I don't care that everyone saw," Dan says quietly. "Maybe that makes me a bad guy, but I don't."

It's a matter of fact, Dan's achingly casual shrug of the shoulder.

"Would you come over here?" Nate says. "How are we supposed to kiss if you're on the other side of the room?"

Dan frowns, confused. "But –"

"I want to be with you too," Nate says and his joking drains away as his heart rate picks up. It's true, but it's a scary thing to say, scary to feel. "Plus I told my mom. So. It better still be something, because she's gonna be a real pain in the ass about it."

Dan straightens. "You told your mom?"

"She did see the footage," Nate points out, but despite the fact that his hands were tied, it doesn't change how he feels. "But yeah. She knows that we're – that we're dating."

"Dating," Dan repeats, and smiles just a little. The knot of tension slides from Nate's shoulders.

"What're you still doing all the way over there?" Nate asks, fighting his own smile.

It's funny how sometimes the bullshit just ceases to matter. Like right now: Dan coming towards him with warmth in his eyes, insecurity transmuted to confidence. He braces his hand on the door beside Nate's head and kisses him, leaning in and leaning in until they're pressed together. And Nate just doesn't care about anything else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That doesn't make school any easier, though.

The upside is that things aren't so lonely, now – he has Dan and Serena and even Jenny most of the time, when she isn't playing double agent. So when some jerk makes a stupid comment, at least Nate has someone to roll his eyes at. And that is surprisingly nice.

Serena is exceptionally defensive, though, and this seems to split the girls' junior class in two: half of them on Blair's side and the other half unable to resist the siren call of Serena's trendsetting. It's very _whatever_ to Nate; he appreciates everything Serena's doing, or trying to do, but he's also seriously attempting to not put so much weight in what other people might be saying.

So much so that one Thursday morning he kisses Dan right in the courtyard. Everyone seems too startled to say much about it. Dan's grin afterward makes it worth it either way.

Blair is still angry with him but Nate honestly doesn't know what to feel about that anymore. He's angry with her too, and sick of shuffling around for forgiveness when she makes him pay so hard for it every time.

She keeps pulling stupid little stunts too, like the spoonful of yogurt dropped onto Nate's head on his way into school, amid laughter from the other students. It could've been any girl among Blair's lined-up minions: they all greet his irritated expression with sugar-sweet smiles. Nate huffs a sigh of annoyance even as he notices that Blair is not smirking like usual. She's frowning. And she's not frowning at him, but at the line of girls.

She meets him at the top of the steps. "Hazel got overzealous," she says dismissively. "You know I always have a full line of hair care in my locker; I can get her to help you if you –"

Disbelieving, Nate raises his eyebrows. "That last thing I need is help from _you_."

Dan ends up washing the yogurt out of Nate's hair in the bathroom sink – third floor corner, their usual rendezvous spot. "What a shame," Dan says, "Those carefully-arranged bangs, that restrained use of product – all for naught."

Nate flicks water droplets at him. "Shut up."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things are worse at home. It appears Anne is flat-out not speaking to him, though she apparently has complained to his father in vague terms about his behavior, because his dad actually asks them to come to the Center for the very first time since Nate's been back.

Nate only assumes she hasn't told his dad about the whole Dan thing because she's pretending it never happened.

She doesn't speak to him all the way to Brooklyn.

"Tell me how it went with Blair," his dad says with a kind of forceful enthusiasm that none of them feel. "Flowers work?"

"You're assuming Nate made any effort at all with Blair," Anne sniffs. "He did not."

"Because I'm not dating Blair," Nate says sullenly. "I don't want to be dating Blair. She hurt me too, you kn–"

"I know your life feels like a mess right now," the Captain interrupts. "But that's all the more reason to stick to what you know. It'll make you stable."

"That's why we plan," Anne adds.

The plan: Dartmouth, law school, Blair. It might as well be tattooed on the inside of Nate's brain. No matter what he does or what he says, that's all they ever seem to hear. Dartmouth. Law school. Blair.

"Your father and I didn't work this hard so you could just throw it all away," Anne says. Recites, more like. "Our family has an image to uphold, Nate. You have to do your part."

"Why?" Nate mumbles. He shifts in his seat, looks away. "Neither of you do yours."

"Now, Nate –" Anne begins to scold, but the Captain holds up a hand.

"Your mother is right, son," he says. "Just because you don't want to hear it –"

"I _do_ hear it," Nate says sharply. "I know everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I got the message, okay? You've been telling me the same thing since I was five. I get that I'm this big disappointment but that's just – the son you want is not who I am. I'm not going to Dartmouth, I'm not going to Yale, I'm not going to be a lawyer or a senator and I'm not going to marry Blair."

"You're a teenager," his dad says in this put-upon patronizing way. "You don't know what you want."

"And," Nate continues unabated, ignoring that, "I'm seeing someone."

His mother's eyes widen and she shakes her head minutely, but Nate is past caring.

"His name is Dan." Nate ignores his dad's stare too, just keeps on talking. "He's really smart," because that's important, "And funny. And nice. He's a good guy. Really good. He cares about me a lot, he's good for me – good _to_ me –"

"That's enough," Anne says, icy. "Nathaniel, please go wait outside. Your father and I have to talk."

"No," Nate says bluntly. "This is not a mistake I made that you have to spin so you look better. I'm not the problem here."

"Nate," his dad says tensely, not looking at him, " _Go_."

Nate hadn't been so thick as to think his parents wouldn't care but he's still caught off guard by how much that hurts. "No." Somehow his voice is steady. "If you think I'm disgusting you can tell me to my face."

His father, thankfully, does not tell him this. But he does say, "Our family doesn't need this. Especially not now."

_We're like this because of what you did_ , Nate thinks. "He came here with me once. Dan. When Mom wouldn't, and she didn't want me to either. He waited outside for me. It was Thanksgiving."

He watches his dad place that visit, wondering if maybe he'd seen the dark-haired kid loitering in the hallway.

There is a long, thick silence before the Captain sighs. "I don't know what you want me to say."

That it's okay. That he loves Nate anyway. That he loves Nate sans qualifier. But apparently that's just too much trouble.

"Forget it," Nate mutters, even though that's the last thing he wants. "I'll go." He grabs his coat, waiting for one of them to stop him at the door. Neither of them do. "I probably won't see you at home later."

He makes the short walk to Dan's instead, ends up staying the night on the couch. He doesn't talk about it, though Dan clearly wants to, and ignores his mother's calls.

He always knew he was a disappointment but it's another thing to have it confirmed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Saturday Nate takes his customary run through the park and then settles into a walk, preparing to go sit on a bench with his iPod and a slim paperback book – a starter book, Dan had said, with ominous overtones that it would lead to much, much more. But before he can take a seat or turn a page, Chuck falls into step with him.

"Things always have a way of working out for you, don't they, Nathaniel," he says, and brings a joint to his lips.

Nate hasn't bothered confronting Chuck about the blast at cotillion that started the mess he's in now; he saw no reason to. He knew Chuck did it. He knew why Chuck did it. Confrontation would have brought no satisfaction, seeing as Chuck didn't respond well to it, always ready with a quip or an infuriating laugh. It would have been like fighting with a wall. A really smarmy wall.

Chuck has been Nate's friend for more than half his life, but that's over now and Nate is finding it hard to mourn the change. He guesses he's getting used to endings.

Merely being _done_ with Chuck didn't mean Chuck was done with you, though.

"I don't know," Nate says finally. "Making the best of a bad situation isn't the same thing as something working out."

Chuck snorts. "How zen."

Nate shrugs, uninterested. "Why are you here, Chuck?"

"Can't a friend check in with another friend after a drastic change in said friend's personal affairs?"

"We aren't friends," Nate says baldly. "And I think you giving me shit for dating a guy would be kind of hypocritical."

"Aren't you curious," Chuck says, "How Blair knew?"

It's on the tip of Nate's tongue to say _she must've seen_ but he realizes right then, from the look on Chuck's face and that goading note to his voice, that he was the one to take the video of Nate and Dan kissing. It was him. Of course it was him.

Chuck doesn't handle confrontation well, which is why he likes all the secretive backstabbing their set gets into. His problem is that he always wants credit for what he's done. He wants a pat on the back for being so sneaky and clever.

"So, what," Nate says, attempting to keep his voice very even. "You just follow me around waiting for me to do something you can report back to Blair?"

Chuck gives him one of those slow, curling smiles. "No, I just have excellent timing." He continues to press, "You know, she didn't even care what it was. I said I had something that could ruin you and she didn't even ask, just told me to send it in. Isn't it funny how things go sour? If you'd just pity-fucked her a year ago you probably could've avoided all –"

Nate may not be proud of it ten minutes from now, but he punches Chuck right in the jaw.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite the Humphreys' insistence that Nate is not in the way, after a week of squeezing five people into the loft, he feels distinctly like he doesn't fit. So he decides to go home.

"I'll miss you sneaking in after everyone's asleep," Dan teases gently, pressing a kiss to Nate's temple.

"I'll miss the waffles," Nate jokes back. Dan shoves him.

Nate thinks the house is empty when he first steps inside. It's cool and quiet, and the tastefully decorated Christmas tree is still standing by the front windows. He doesn't even hear Louisa, the maid, bustling around in the kitchen. He sighs and goes up to his room, but as he passes his mother's, he hears a quiet noise. And then another. It's a soft, miserable sound and he stands there for almost a full minute before he realizes his mother is crying.

Nate has never seen her cry. He could only count on one hand the number of times she's laughed, or smiled. Crying seems out of the realm of possibility.

He knocks gently. "Mom?"

The sound abruptly ceases, and he hears her get up, move around. The door opens and she looks the same as ever – not puffy, not upset, no tears in sight – except for the telltale redness of her eyes. "You're home."

"Yeah." He looks down. His instinct is to apologize, but he reminds himself he has nothing to apologize for.

"Where were you?"

"With Dan," Nate says. "His family's really nice."

Anne frowns. "And highly permissive, apparently."

He doesn't take the bait. "Are you okay?"

She averts her own gaze, and it strikes Nate that she looks kind of frail lately, stretched too thin in a myriad of ways. "Of course." Then it begins. "You know, Nathaniel, I was very worried about you – not even leaving a message, not answering your phone for _days_. I even went on that horrid website you and your friends use, but there wasn't anything except that video again. It was incredibly rude and thoughtless of you, especially after that scene at your father's –"

"Mom," he interrupts. "You could have stopped at 'I was worried.' You gotta – you gotta trust me a little bit."

"How was I to know you hadn't gone to your grandparents' again without a word?" she demands, breathless, staring at him hard with those reddened eyes.

He can't help faint confusion. "Would you have cared if I had?"

"What do you think it was like for me, waking up to find my son was gone?" Anne says. "Getting a call from my father that he was _taking over_ , as he put it? And then nearly losing my husband months later?"

It seems stupid, but Nate had honestly never thought his mother cared enough to be upset that he was gone. For as long as he could remember, he had been an inconvenience to her: the boy who could never do anything right. But to look at her now, angry and uncharacteristically emotional, he is reminded of the fierce, fierce way Blair cares about people without ever wanting them to know.

"I'm sorry." Nate tries to inject as much genuine remorse into that as he feels. "I know I never said that to you. And I am really sorry. I just didn't know what else to do."

She seems at least a little taken aback. "You could have come to me first."

"Mom, don't take this the wrong way," he says, keeping his voice even, "but most of the time, you really don't want to hear it."

Anne looks away, and then brings a hand up to wipe away a stray tear that had begun to slide down her cheek. "Then I apologize as well."

"Okay," Nate says, and puts his arms around her. After a moment she lets him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter break had been a welcome respite from everything, but come chilly January it's back to business.

Anne Archibald certainly hasn’t done a 360 or anything, but she's trying and Nate can be patient as long as he knows she's trying. He asks if she wants to meet Dan; she does not. But she orders some catalogues from lesser Ivys: Amherst, Trinity, Wesleyan. It's a gesture.

"Do you think it bothers her more that I'm a boy or that I'm middle class?" Dan jokes. Nate could honestly say it's a toss-up.

Blair is at his locker first thing on the first day back to school. "You punched Chuck," she says.

Nate busies himself putting textbooks away, realizes he forgot his math book. "It's not the first time someone hit him," he says. "Probably not the last, either."

She doesn't seem to care about that, shifting on her heels with a kind of impatience. "He said you were defending my honor, or something."

"What does Chuck know about honor?" He turns away. "I gotta get to class."

Nate is uncertain as to the cause of it, but he's noticed a change in Blair towards him: not so much of a softening as a lack of active rage. Which is big, for her. He hasn't done a thing to prompt it – in fact, he's been leaving her entirely alone, treating her like a stranger. He hasn't heard anything from Serena, but Serena isn't talking to Blair much either lately.

Blair is waiting in his living room when he gets home from school, a few minutes late because he insists on seeing Dan to the train every day. Dan doesn't need him to, obviously, but it's a holdover from days when he had to act the gentleman. Dan seems to find it funny.

Anne must've been _thrilled_ to have Blair appear on her doorstep.

Blair stands awkwardly when he enters the room, her tomato red blazer standing out against all the dark wood and ambient lighting of the study. She looks tentative.

"Hope you don't have another yogurt to lob at me," he says.

"That wasn't me," Blair says with a touch of impatience. "And – and the blast, at the Ball, that wasn't me either."

"I know," Nate says. "Chuck said."

"I didn't ask what it was. I was so mad at you, I didn't care." She takes a breath. "I didn't know."

"If you had, would that have stopped you?"

Blair gives a jerky little shrug, but they both know the answer: no. Her gaze drops and he follows it, noticing for the first time the white envelope in her hands.

"What's that?"

"I wrote it to you when you were at your grandparents'," she says, and her fingers trace the edge of it, feeling its shape. "I never sent it."

Nate's throat works with a sudden rush of renewed guilt.

Carefully, Blair plucks the folded sheet of paper from inside the envelope – even with the distance between them, he can see his name and his grandparents' address neatly written on it, a letter that was never stamped – and opens it to read.

"Dear Nate," she says, and takes another breath like she really needs it. "My world is falling apart. My father left my mother for a thirty-one year old model. A male model. He's gone. And you're gone too." It's too easy to picture Blair, who never admits defeat and would rather die than concede hurt, sitting at her desk and writing out every single thing that's killing her. "I can't even talk to Serena, because she's always out or always drunk, and I can't take care of her by – by myself. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? Why didn't you call? I love you, don't –" Her voice thins out like it could crack at any minute and her lashes are wet. "Don't you love me? I miss you so much. Love, Blair."

"You should have sent it," Nate says immediately, forcefully, his own voice thick. "I would've –"

"You would have what, Nate? You knew. You knew and you didn't even _call_." It's the tone of voice she used to reserve for telling him he got the wrong flowers, or forgetting she was off dairy that week. Except it's not like that at all, because he can hear how close she is to crying.

"I didn't know how to – what to say," he says, "to you, I –" He swallows. "I didn't want to hurt you, except I already had, and I didn't know how to look you in the eye and lie about it."

"I don't know if I would have told Chuck to do it anyway, if I knew," Blair says quietly. "After my dad, I wouldn't… I don't think I would."

He wonders if that has something to do with her sudden amends. Or maybe she did just miss him ( _so much_ ), like he missed her; it was easy to forget with Blair that the impenetrable shield of her anger hid something very delicate. He spent so long trying not to look at that vulnerable, breakable part of her because it made him so uncomfortable. He didn't know how to handle it, and at the same time he knew one clumsy bad word from him could shatter it. But he'd done a lot worse than say the wrong thing by accident.

"I deserve it," he says seriously. "If you never forgave me, I'd understand."

Blair nods a little, but says, "Me too, I'd…" She trails off before admitting, "I want you to forgive me."

Nate's forgiveness is easily won. One look at her heartbroken and his defenses were already melted; he's not great at grudges. "Already have."

She looks up at him with sharp eyes still teary, assessing him for potential tricks. Apparently she doesn't find anything suspicious. "Okay," she says. "That's a start."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blair invites him to breakfast on the steps – him and Dan _and_ Serena.

Nate gets there first, finding Blair without her pastel mafia for once, just sitting alone in thick knit tights and a hat that covers her ears. Her nose is pink from cold and she is already annoyed at the weather, but privately Nate has always liked her best in the winter. She was always nudging close to him for warmth.

Dan and Serena arrive a few minutes later, holding hands as though that is totally normal. Nate must make a face, because Dan laughs and runs a hand over the nape of Nate's neck, which is unfairly placating.

Serena gingerly takes a seat one step below Blair and after a second, Blair shifts down next to her. "I got you tea," Serena says softly, and Blair takes it. Nate breathes a little sigh of relief.

It's awkward and cold for the first few minutes until Dan and Blair somehow start arguing about George Cukor and Serena rolls her eyes at Nate before effectively shifting the conversation to the upcoming Spring Formal, which starts Blair on a fresh round of weather complaints as Dan's hand settles on Nate's lower back under his coat. Nate doesn't offer much, instead letting the three of them talk over each other; Nate just breathes and breathes and feels –

He feels so much, so fully and completely, that if he opened his mouth he'd be embarrassingly sentimental. So he doesn't. He just listens, and feels too much, too good, for speaking.


	6. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dad's at some all-night installation thing," Dan tells him, and the meaning behind it is obvious.

"Dad's at some all-night installation thing," Dan tells him, and the meaning behind it is obvious.

Sex has not come up a whole hell of a lot, except for how they're both hyper aware that they're not having it. It goes without saying that Dan is a talker, so it must be taking superhuman reserve to keep him from having this conversation with Nate; that, or he's nervous, afraid, especially since Nate's sexuality is a thing still in flux. Nate would tell him not to worry, but that would defeat the purpose of not discussing anything.

All they do is kiss, though they do so at length, pressed so tight in Dan's twin bed that the only place closer would be under Dan's skin. Nate like that about kissing Dan – likes to feel Dan's heartbeat right up against him, like the ballroom dance steps he's tried pretty hard to forget: quick quick slow.

They get wrapped up in each other. They kiss until their skin is flushed red and sticky, kiss until they're breathless, kiss until Nate can't keep his hands from slipping under Dan's shirt to press against his hot back, until Dan's hips are snug against his even though that's dangerous territory.

Nate isn't sure what makes them stop, except nerves, maybe. Sometimes it's Dan's parents or Jenny coming home (because they almost always go to Dan's, unless Anne has gone on a spa weekend or something). Sometimes Nate wonders how they would've been able to pull apart without the interruption.

It always takes a second or two to get their bearings, to breathe, to push away from each other. Nate will sometimes run his thumb over Dan's mouth, lips puffy from kissing, red and wet. Dan smiles under the touch and Nate tries hard not to kiss him again. Later he'll call the image back up in his head, wrap his hand around himself and picture Dan's mouth there.

Once, though –

Once Dan is kissing him, deeply like Dan is so good at, and he just says it, says, "I love you."

Nate can feel exactly how furiously Dan's heart is pounding – quicker than a quickstep – and it's all too much, too soon. It's been four months, maybe, depending on what they consider the beginning of their relationship (another conversation they haven't had). But Nate just finds himself reaching for the hem of Dan's shirt and yanking it up, tipping Dan back against the bed and settling on top of him.

Dan watches him with something curious in his widened dark eyes. Then it's kissing again, only there's all of Dan's skin under his fingertips, and it's hotter than before and Dan's hands are under Nate's shirt, palms pressing against Nate's spine.

They line up just right, Dan hard against Nate, and Dan moans – it's the first time Nate has ever made him do that, this rough little sound escaping from low in his throat like Dan can't keep it in, eyes shut tight and cheeks flushed. He moans because of Nate and Nate says, "Me too," before he can stop it.

He drops kisses over Dan's flushed face, his mouth, says, "I love you too," even though he's never told that to anyone except Blair in his entire life. But he does love Dan, he does. For all the reasons he told his parents: because Dan is smart and funny and kind, because he loves Nate, because he's good to Nate and good for him too. But also because Dan can be mean and judgmental and he overthinks everything all the time, because sometimes his mind is narrow even when he claims to be so open.

Dan's eyes open so he can look at Nate intently as he slowly slides the heel of his hand over the shape of Nate through his jeans. Nate sucks in a breath and kisses Dan again, trails his mouth over Dan's throat. He wants that sound back, that rough moan. He doesn't get it, though Dan laughs warmly before he tugs the button of Nate's jeans open.

That's the closest they come. Nate really thinks that'll be it, the first time, there on Dan's bed in the middle of the afternoon, until the front door opens distantly. A few minutes later Jenny's voice loudly echoes, "Stop making out, I'm home!"

Dan sighs loudly, his arms falling away as his head drops back against the pillows. He mutters, "Sisters."

Nate bites his lip, unwilling to accept that it's over just when it was getting so good. He rubs up against Dan a little.

"Can't," Dan says. It almost comes out like that moan, _almost_. "We can't."

"I know," Nate says with a sigh of his own, but he's still moving a little and Dan is too, slowly, without meaning to.

"We have to go out there and pretend to be normal and not have erections," Dan says.

"We won't if we –" Nate presses down a little harder.

But it's a no go.

Dan kisses him goodbye out on the street and calls him almost as soon as Nate is home, talks in a steady low mumble, says all the things he wants to do to Nate. Nate just has time to shut his bedroom door behind him, lean against it. He comes with Dan's voice in his ear and his hand on himself.

Before Dan hangs up, sounding a little breathless himself, he says, "Tell me again."

For once in his life Nate knows exactly what's going on and, without missing a beat, tells Dan he loves him again.

"It's good to hear that," Dan murmurs, an odd small talk phrase that sounds warm and genuine in his voice. It's a good thing to hear. It makes him feel good.

Honestly, Nate answers, "It's good to say it."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which brings everything up to speed to: "Dad's at some all-night installation thing." After a beat, Dan adds, "Jenny is at another Waldorf _soirée_ , and Mom is back up at Hudson this weekend."

Dan does not betray how he feels about that last little bit of information, because the point seems to be that they have the loft all to themselves for at least one night.

"Remember the first time I slept over," Nate teases, though nothing particularly shocking had gone on, unless one stoned kiss counts as shocking. It really wasn't, especially in retrospect.

As though to pay homage to that first night, they smoke a little first.

Dan is not hyper chatty ( _verbose_ , Dan informed him once, or _loquacious_ ; dating Dan will do wonders for Nate's SAT score) like he usually is high. Instead he is quiet and thoughtful as they pass the joint between them. The energy of the room is murky and mellow, and Dan is malleable and soft. They kiss leisurely with open mouths, in no rush.

Eventually Nate drags his lips along Dan's jaw, clean-shaven but still slightly rough, and sucks gently below his ear. He opens Dan's shirt button by button, concentrating on the task more than he concentrates on most, and pushes it off Dan's shoulders, where it catches at the crook of his arms. Dan laughs a little, falls back onto his elbows on the bed and brings the joint back up to his lips for a long drag.

Nate wets his lips unconsciously before pressing a kiss to the hollow dip of Dan's collarbone. He moves lower, sliding to his knees on the floor and trailing kisses over Dan's stomach as he reaches for Dan's belt.

Dan exhales smoke, and his nerves show in the slight tremor of his hand. His bottom lip is between his teeth as he watches Nate carefully divest him of his jeans, lifting his hips to help, and he unsuccessfully tries to stifle a shaky breath when Nate kisses his dick through his boxers. It hits Nate abruptly that he's never gone down on anyone before. Blair had given him a few blowjobs, very sparingly, always the pinnacle of her reward system, but she never let him return the favor.

Before he can cross that off his list, Dan tangles fingers in Nate's hair and tugs him back up for another kiss. Nate lets his weight settle on Dan, feeling an odd kind of shiver in his chest when they come into contact. Dan grips him so tightly, too tightly, and that makes Nate shiver too, makes him want to keep kissing Dan and never stop.

Nate pulls back just enough to stub the joint out, and then he's pressing close to Dan again.

Dan tugs Nate's t-shirt over his head impatiently and then his hands are all over Nate, everywhere, at once: clenching tight in his hair, dragging blunt nails over his back, squeezing under the waistband of his jeans. Dan moans a little, the rasp of it so soft Nate nearly misses it, and suddenly everything sharpens. It gets frantic where it had been so easy, messy and urgent where before they'd been happy to coast. Nate thinks it might just happen like this – half-dressed, too soon – but he wants it too much to care at the moment.

Until Dan is gasping, saying, "No, wait, no, I want to see –"

Nate stills. "See?"

"Can I?" Dan kisses Nate's throat wetly and wriggles free from underneath him so he can push Nate onto his back. His hands are at the fastening on Nate's jeans, rubbing the bulge there distractedly, feeling the shape of Nate's cock. "Can I?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want," Nate says, which gets a laugh as Dan gets the button open, zipper down. He pulls the remainder of Nate's clothes off unceremoniously, but then he pauses. He stares at Nate spread out beneath him, the rapid rise and fall of Nate's chest, his cock getting harder under the scrutiny. Dan touches him with light exploratory fingers. Nate remembers that Dan has never touched another boy either; whatever first Dan is for him, he is for Dan too.

"You too," Nate prompts. He wants badly to see Dan, touch him, take him in hand.

Dan sits back on his heels to strip himself of his unbuttoned button-down, finally, and then eases his boxers off. Nate grabs Dan's ass before he can stop himself, brings Dan back on top of him.

The first slide of Dan's cock against his nearly undoes them both. They look down as one, watching raptly as they move together. Neither of them can stop looking, apparently, at where they move inexpertly against each other, hard and flushed, too distracted by it even to kiss.

Nate's still got his hands on Dan's ass, directing those slow thrusts, pushing them towards that dizzy edge. Dan wraps a tight grip around them both, letting the rhythm Nate's setting slide them in and out of his fist with little assistance. Nate really can't pull his gaze from Dan's cock, can feel the pulse of it against his own. He thinks Dan's cock is awfully nice to look at, longer than Nate's but not quite as thick, looking bigger against the backdrop of Dan's thinness. He curls a hand around Dan's around them both, wants to feel it, wants –

"Want it in my mouth," Nate mumbles. It's a clumsy want of putting it, unthinking and motivated by desire, and it'll probably be embarrassing later. But right now he wants Dan's cock in his mouth, can imagine the weight of it on his tongue, the fullness between his lips. Dan must be able to imagine it too, because he moans desperately and spills all over Nate's stomach, cock, both their hands. His hips don't still for even a minute, still pushing restlessly against Nate.

And before Nate has much of a chance to enjoy that, to revel in Dan panting and sticky and sated, Dan is saying, "Tell me when," as he shifts down Nate's body to take Nate into his mouth.

Nate has a half-second of mild jealousy before he truly does not care about anything at all, Dan's mouth hot and wet, his cheeks going concave as he sucks. Nate lasts maybe three seconds and does not have time to warn Dan before coming unexpectedly.

"When," he breathes once Dan has pulled off, slumping back against the mattress. He winces. "Sorry."

Dan is making a little bit of a face but shakes his head, half-smiles. "Could be worse. And it's not like mine wasn't already…everywhere, when I –" He breaks off, cheeks pinking as post-coital embarrassment sinks in – yes, they really did all those things, yes, they were that shameless, yes, it was that messy, that good.

It only serves to make Nate want to wrap Dan up in his arms, so that's what he does.

They trade kisses slower than they did at the start of the night, sweat drying on their skin. Nate doesn't feel anything close to satisfaction, the roll-over-and-sleep feeling he's come to associate with jerking off. He just wants to keep kissing. He wants to do it all over again.

He says as much and Dan laughs quietly. "Shit. I mean, _shit_. We just had sex. Like, actually."

"I know, dude, I was there," Nate says. "I saw the whole thing go down." Dan pinches him and Nate grins, feels that flutter in his chest he sometimes has around Dan. Words tumble out without his meaning to say them. "I'm glad, though. That it was you."

When Nate thought about the first time he'd have sex, he'd never imagined it on a bar in an empty ballroom or with a boy in Brooklyn. He thought it would be fumbling but nice, carefully orchestrated and painstakingly planned. A movie first time. Candles, pink lingerie, chaste kisses, exchanged _I love you_ s.

It's messier than that, though. He had no way of anticipating how out of control of his own body he'd feel, how it would be to give control to someone and something else. To just let it happen, however it was supposed to happen.

"I'm glad it was me, too," Dan jokes.

Nate finds he doesn't regret it, not any of it.


End file.
